


Zainin to Hime Sama: The True Tale of the Princess and the Criminal

by badassunicornakahina



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Romance, Sad Ginoza, Sleepiness, Sleepy Ginoza, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25174321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badassunicornakahina/pseuds/badassunicornakahina
Summary: TOKYO, JAPAN, 2115Sybil locked down its borders. But now the world has come knocking on Japan’s doors.Shadows cast by Sybil System have caught the attention of the New United Nations Human Rights Council. And brought Arsalan Hime Sama, the princess dressed in shining white and silver to the Land of the Rising Sun. Arsalan will not rest till she has shot these shadows with a tracking dart and traced them out for the world to see. But is her pure white hue enough to keep her own shadows at bay?In the city, a new drug is turning the city black. And a new enemy is playing old games. Can the PSB keep citizens safe? While trying to keep a foreign princess from digging too deep? And stopping a refugee crisis from changing their way of life? Ginoza Nobuchika doesn’t know. After all, he’s just a hound. And he’ll hunt down monsters, like he is told, even at the cost of his safety and sanity. But old habits die hard, and old friends are harder to forget. And while Ginoza Nobuchika sleeps, monsters come hunting him.Slightly AU, starts post-Season 2, maybe a few months after the Kamui caseThis is for everyone who wants to protect sadbois, because they deserve so much more!
Relationships: Ginoza Nobuchika/Kougami Shinya, Ginoza Nobuchika/Original Female Character(s), Ginoza Nobuchika/Sugou Teppei
Comments: 16
Kudos: 8





	1. Jitsuwa

Everyone was talking about it. In Division 1. In the Cafeteria. In Shion’s digital dungeon. In the bathroom. 

All across Japan. The world probably. 

Ginoza Nobuchika, Hound 1, Current Division 1 Enforcer, Former Division 1 Investigator, he answered to whatever he was called, seemed to be the only living soul who had no idea what the hell was going on. 

After decades of isolation, Sybil System had finally allowed a foreigner into the Land of the Rising Sun. And it wasn’t just any foreigner, it was a Princess from one of the largest geopolitically stable entities in the world - The Easriin Arabian Union, which had its capital in Damascus. And she wasn’t here just for a joy-trip. She was here as a representative of the New United Nations Alliance that was taking shape in Africa and the Middle East. And she was leading a Task Force from the Human Rights Commission to examine alleged human rights violations in Japan. 

Ginoza had no idea what that entailed. Nor did he care. It wasn’t like it would change anything for him. It wouldn’t change what he had done, what he had failed to do and what he would never get to. 

So he finished his minimal paperwork, waited for Tsunemori Kanshikan and Shimotsuki Kanshikan to leave. Then worked out in the gym for an hour. Then took Dime for a walk to cool down. Showered. Ate dinner. 

And now he was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. 

His feelings like his coefficient had stabilized over the past few months. He had changed. He wasn’t terrified about Tsunemori clouding her hue. He didn’t regret being a bad son. He wasn’t guilty about abandoning Kougami. He wasn’t the old Ginoza Nobuchika anymore, the angry investigator who cared about the position more than the purpose. He had made peace with it all. 

So why the hell couldn’t he sleep?

Ginoza sat up. He tried not to sigh. He tried to empty his mind like the counsellor had shown him. 

He gave up and went to his desk. He switched on the screen and called up the video that had apparently taken Japan by storm. 

Hime Sama’s first Public address since she had come to Japan two weeks ago. 

The number of hits his search got was staggering. He clicked on the first video. It showed the Governor of Tokyo finishing his introduction of their illustrious visitor. Then she walked in. 

She was dressed all in white. He could make out white, knee-high boots, white fitted trousers, a white tunic, a white military jacket with silver trimmings. On her head, she wore a glittering crown that spun delicately around the back of her head. Her face was covered with a white headscarf, the forehead and everything from the nose down covered in shimmering white cloth. It looked distinctive against the backdrop of people dressed in black and the gloom of the early Tokyo morning. The only thing visible was her dark eyes, and they were rimmed in white as well, making her gaze seem… what? Soft? Innocent? Ethereal? 

Hime Sama looked like a white dove, flying across the stage to offer a strange people a carefully picked sprig of olive. 

Ginoza scoffed. Celebrities were all alike, weren’t they? Bales of hay festooned in glitter and pomp and pageantry. Offered to the masses who fit so perfectly in boxes Sybil had designated for them. 

She came up to the mic and greeted the crowd and the press in her native tongue. 

Of course, Ginoza heard the words in Japanese through the translator, but he knew the difference. Hime Sama hadn’t bothered to learn their language, had she?

But as the roar of the crowd grew quieter, Ginoza realized he was wrong. Because Hime started speaking in fluent, polite Japanese. 

“There were these fields across the wall from the house I grew up in. And every summer, after the crops had been taken in - farming isn’t automated where I come from; those fields would be used for the summer market.”

She moved her hands in expansive gestures like she was referring to a map they were all familiar with. 

“Every evening they would stage plays - troupes would come in from all over the Arabian Union. I remember one summer, there was this group of players from Damietta, I’ll give you a minute to look up where that is…”

Quiet laughs ensued from behind her. Ginoza paused the video to look it up himself. Damietta, formerly the capital of the Damietta Governorate in Egypt, it was now the capital of Liberated North Africa - the first city to successfully revolt against the dictatorship of Fawad - al Kasir. He returned to the video. 

“The staged an old Egyptian play...”

More laughter. If there was a joke in there, Ginoza wasn’t getting it. 

“It’s about a single father who wants to marry his three daughters off. So he can marry the woman he’s secretly having an affair with. Good job dad! But he can’t bring himself to let go, to actually let his daughters choose who and how they marry. So he ends up controlling everything - where they go, what they do, who they meet and… well, you get the picture.”

Her voice softened down, so he had to lean in to hear. 

“Sometimes, I feel we’re all just children living with parents that control everything. Where we go. What we do. Who we meet… So as children, where does that leave us? Do we sit obediently in the parlour while Daddy dearest negotiates our bride-price? Do we rebel, fight for what we think we deserve - if we even know what we deserve - perhaps run away and live like outlaws in the Black Zones? Or do we put on some lipstick and make eyes at the neighbour’s son when Daddy leaves for his very important job at the Ministry of Home Affairs?”

Laughter. 

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure the neighbour’s son is very handsome, scored decently in his final examinations and is kind to animals as well. But is that all we want? Are those our only options? And what happens when we stop finding these options satisfying? … Do we take it out on our parents? Or do we take it out on each other?”

She paused. Ginoza found himself pausing with her. 

“Forgive me, it seems like I lost track of my speech. I was supposed to be sharing an endearing tale from my homeland. Not monologuing about the philosophy of our existence. So let me end by saying, I am deeply humbled and extremely grateful for this opportunity to come to Japan and hear your stories. I hope that I can take a thousand and one tales back with me when I return. So when my fellow countrymen ask me, I can tell them of an amazing people, each tale more astonishing and beautiful than the night skies over Wadi Musa…”

She looked up and reached her hand above her and the world was covered in an explosion of stars - the Milky Way stretching out in hues of silver, purple and pink above her head and numerous dots twinkling across the dark stage. They shone in her eyes. And reflected like jewels on her clothes. She lowered her eyes back to her audience, the camera angle making it seem like she was looking right at him. 

“I am Arsalan of House Jamali, Daughter of Al-Sham. Yoroshiku Onegaishimasu.”

And as she lowered her head before the hundreds gathered before her, the crowds erupted in applause. 

So this is what everyone was talking about. 

As he contemplated what he had just heard and seen, Ginoza found his way back to his bed without realizing it. He lay down and played her words back. Dissecting the space between what was said, what was meant, what was heard and what was held back. He wondered if his tale would be more astonishing and beautiful than the night skies over Wadi Musa - a place peopled, in his imagination, with mysterious figures in dark cloaks riding across dunes on the backs of camels, led by a lone figure dressed all in white… And as the caravan steadily crossed the ocean of sand, Ginoza Nobuchika crossed over in to the peaceful caress of sleep.


	2. Moe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He always thought too much. But with Hime Sama, he could think whatever he wanted to. Even if he never got it, he could think it. And with that, Ginoza Nobuchika turned on to his side, pulled the pillow in to his embrace, closed his eyes and let his imagination take over.

It was stupid. 

And if anyone asked him, he would deny it with great fervour. No one did of course. Because he never participated in the discussions with his colleagues. He never talked about it during breaktime or on a stake-out, not even when Shimotsuki and Shion had an argument about it right over his head. But after that first time that Ginoza Nobuchika watched Arusuran Hime-Sama on the screen, he was a little bit addicted. So every night now, unless he was being run raw by his duties as an Enforcer, he ended up curled in front of his screen, eating dinner while watching videos of this foreigner who had captured Japan’s imagination. 

It was stupid. 

But there were a lot of videos. Like the one where she was being interviewed by Tokyo’s leading celebrity journalist. 

“So Arusuran Hime-Sama, what does your name mean?”

“It means,” she laughed a little, “lion. Yes, I know, it’s a man’s name. But I like it. Lions are very rare in Easriin, so I think I like being rare, I suppose?”

The interview went on to talk about her childhood, where it was shockingly revealed that she had been born with a rare spinal defect and was severely disabled for most of her years growing up. She had had numerous surgeries and when the technology was finally available in her country, she had been able to take her first step at the age of thirteen. She didn’t say much about her disability. Instead, Hime spoke about how her mother (who was a Citizen) and her father (who was the youngest brother and advisor of the current King of the Easriin Arabian Union) had supported and encouraged her despite her weaknesses. 

They moved on to lighter topics. Hime explained the headscarf she wore (called a niqab) and joked about how, if she ever took it off, the hues of half the men and women in the country would be endangered.

There was a series of videos now that discussed the history, traditions and current news from Easriin - a nation barely seventy years old, rebuilding itself from the war-ravaged ruins of what had once been the Middle East. Seventy years ago Ibrahim Jamali rebelled against the warlords of Syria and declared the Kingdom of Easriin an independent state, changing the face of one of the most geopolitically unstable regions of the world. 

He watched as the great-granddaughter of the first King of Easriin, participated in a karaoke challenge with one of the latest male idol groups (Sybil-approved, of course). Hime gave up halfway, almost falling down laughing when she mispronounced a few words. 

She always wore white. They said it was because white represented royalty in Easriin. It was said, it also matched her hue, which was pure white by all accounts. Her voice was lovely, even if it cracked on the higher notes. Watching the leader of the idol group shameless flirt with her though, was annoying. 

There were videos of her trying Japanese cuisine, cooked with real ingredients. Ginoza had been excited about that, thinking that she would take off her niqab to eat. But she managed to lift the white face-cloth just enough to maneuver the chopsticks under it without revealing a single centimeter of skin to the cameras. He learned though that she loved spicy food and had declared that if takoyaki was a person, she would marry them. 

That had led to a whole range of videos about the kind of person she wanted to marry. Ginoza, along with the rest of Japan, learned that she just needed someone she could trust - it didn’t matter if they were a man or a woman or anything. And not that she was looking for it, she was here for work, but she wasn’t completely averse to the idea of dating a Japanese person. 

“As long as they can keep up with my schedule. Most days I barely sleep, I am very busy. Being the Taichou of the HRC Team is hard work.” 

They had discussed where she’d like to go for dates.

“Anywhere with Takoyaki,” she said, before laughing and changing the subject. 

Hime Sama had a beautiful laugh. The sound of it at least, and the way her eyes sparkled when she did. 

He was probably crushing on Hime-Sama a little bit. 

You and every other dickwad with access to the internet. Baka. 

But it didn’t matter. He was a latent criminal with no romantic future. His infatuation was harmless. And it lessened the sting of Tsunemori’s indifference and her continued devotion to Kougami Shinya, even though that man had left them all behind. While Ginoza had stayed. Like he would always stay. Behind her but never next to her. Not the way Kou had been. 

It didn’t matter. It was stupid. It was all so stupid.

But hey, at least he was sleeping better now. 

That had to be a good thing, right? 

He always thought too much. But with Hime Sama, he could think whatever he wanted to. Even if he never got it, he could think it. And with that, Ginoza Nobuchika turned on to his side, pulled the pillow in to his embrace, closed his eyes, and let his imagination take over. 

It was stupid. But it was alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter names, as you may have guessed are Japanese words. I encourage you to look them up! Or ask me why I used them for any particular chapter.


	3. Tsukamaru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginoza crouched low to the side and held out his hand, fingers spread. He counted down from five in his mind and then closed his fingers in to a fist. At the signal Sugo kicked the door in and moved out of the way. Another five seconds and they rushed in.

It was the story of his life. 

Everything that could go wrong, going wrong. And then some. Especially when Division 1 was involved. 

Ginoza Nobuchika ran down the rickety metal stairs, Sugo Teppei behind him. Somewhere behind them, followed Shimotsuki Kanshikan, he was sure. The metal whined and groaned beneath them. It was a wonder the whole place hadn’t come down long ago. But then again, this was the Jet Quarter - the largest internment zone inside Tokyo. Almost everything here should have come down a long time ago. 

The place was dark, getting almost pitch black. Sugo’s flashlight came on, helping him narrowly avoid missing the girder and plunging in to the yawning pit below. They were nearly 50 meters under the ground and yet to catch sight of their quarry. The suspect was wanted for killing his wife and her sister back in Shibuya. And it was only a lucky capture on the last scanner before the empty pit that was the Jet Quarter that had led them to this place. The man had been holed up in a mid-grade brothel. And he was now on the run with a hostage. They ran, hoping Shion’s pillbugs could set up comms for them before they had to face the criminal with Dominators that were offline. 

Not that he cared. He’d end this, whatever way he had to. Tsunemori’s 299 rule wouldn’t apply tonight. 

The girder ended in a metal door set in to stone. Some kind of bunker. Ginoza stopped outside. You didn't rush through a closed door when chasing a suspect. Behind him, Sugo readied his Dominator and angled his torch. Shimotsuki was still a ways behind. Sugo’s eyes flashed blue as Ginoza himself heard the Dominator’s voice inside his head. They nodded to each other, each certain of his role once the door was forced open. 

Ginoza crouched low to the side and held out his hand, fingers spread. He counted down from five in his mind and then closed his fingers in to a fist. At the signal, Sugo kicked the door in and moved out of the way. Another five seconds and they rushed in. 

The inside was lit with dim storm-lights. But their vision honed in on the metal glint of a knife. It was pressed to the neck of a woman with long blonde hair, wearing a red tank-top and leather booty shorts - standard prostitute fare. She didn't match the description of their hostage at all. But the man pressed against her, threatening to slit her throat if they took one step closer was definitely their criminal. 

Ginoza aimed his Dominator. He could knock her out with the paralyzer. Most prostitutes were latent criminals anyway. Then Sugo could clean up the perpetrator. And they could all go home. At least that was the theory. 

“Crime Coefficient is Zero. Trigger will be locked.” 

His first thought was, impossible. His second thought was, not again.

He focussed his attention on the woman. Which is why he was perhaps the only one who saw her roll her cold, hard eyes. Just before she grabbed the hand holding the knife to her neck, wrenched it around, forcing the man to drop the offending weapon. The man caught her hair instead, in a brutal grip. But she just stepped forward, leaving the hair in his hand, before kicking back like a horse, getting him right in his balls. She turned around to face him. 

“You can keep that,” she said, pulling off the hairnet and releasing her dark auburn and, Ginoza assumed, real hair. “I have more.” 

Then she stepped to the side and kicked the knife further away. Her face was completely impassive as she raised her hands towards them in surrender. It was at that moment they all heard the click of a semi-automatic’s lock being released. The woman ducked and spun out with a kick. But Sugo was faster. 

Ginoza’s aim was still trained on the woman. So he saw the moment her spinning kick flung through a fountain of blood instead of a person. How she landed back facing them, only now she was covered in the blood of a murderer. He was watching, so he saw her eyes widen in shock and her body go still. 

In the far corner of the room, the short, strawberry blonde who had reportedly been taken hostage from the brothel saw the exploded mess of her kidnapper and screeched. 

“Sugo Shikokkan,” Mika yelled from behind them, finally having caught up, “shut that banshee up.”

Sugo responded immediately, skirting the mess at the centre of the room to reach the strawberry blonde, to restrain her and if necessary use the Dominator on her.

“And Ginoza Shikkokan, if you are done gawking, take the other woman in to custody.” 

Ginoza put his Dominator away. 

“What do you think you are doing?” Shimotsuki asked from behind him. 

He ignored her and walked forward, discreetly placing his body in her line of sight. The dark-haired woman was staring at all the blood and remains surrounding her. Her eyes were still wide. He could make out the faint trembling of her frame. 

“Excuse me, Miss?”

She looked up at him and he was surprised to see the uncertainty in her eyes, where only a moment ago they had been cold and hard. 

“My name is Ginoza Nobuchika.” He held up his id. “I am an Enforcer with the PSB. Could you come with me?” 

She looked like she didn’t understand a word he was saying. But then she nodded and stepped towards him. Except her foot landed on an especially chunky bit of flesh left by the lethal elimination. It squished under her foot and she slipped, falling down flat on her face. She lifted herself on her hands and knees, slowly, like her body was refusing to obey her. Her head still hung down. Ginoza crouched in front of her. 

“It’s okay. You’re alright,” he said. 

She looked up at him. He held out his hand to her. She focussed on it. And slowly she came back to herself, not completely, but enough to place her bloodied hand in his and take his support to stand up. He noticed a cheap bracelet of rough-cut glass beads around her wrist.

He chose not to handcuff her. 

She continued to hold his hand until they reached back to the surface. Ginoza guessed it was because she was used to taking comfort from strange men, but something about leading her through the dark and twisted path just felt right. After a very long time. 

He informed Tsunemori of the Dominator’s reading of the woman as he gave her a brief break-down of what had happened underground. He was careful to do this well out of Shimotsuki Kanshikan’s hearing. Akane’s gaze followed the blood-drenched figure who was being led to the criminal transport in handcuffs along with all the others from the brothel. She discreetly performed a scan on her. Crime Coefficient was 17. 

“You sure about this?” she asked, even though it was obvious that no one in this place should have had a crime coefficient this low. 

“Yes. You can check the Dominator’s history if you like.”

“No need. Let’s question her first, as soon as we are back at the tower,” she said.

Because if the Dominator knew, Sybil knew. Which meant they had very little time before the System laid claim to her. 

But as he watched the dark-haired woman being put in to the black van with a dozen other men and women whose crime-coefficients were found to be too high to let them run loose, Ginoza couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t going to turn out like the last time at all. 

But what the hell did he know?

Because by the time they made it back to HQ, they found out that the mysterious woman was not among the fifteen people they had picked up in Jet Quarter. 

And after a whole night of questioning, not one of the prisoners said a single useful word about who she was or where she could be found. 

And all Shion had been able to determine was that the prisoner transport had stopped for three minutes on a long stretch of barren road between Jet Quarter and the tower. But there were no cameras on the stretch to indicate who had taken the woman out. 

It was in the dawn hours that Ginoza dragged himself back to his quarters. He had taken a break earlier to feed and walk Dime, so the husky barely registered his return. He fell on his bed without bothering to change. He dragged the tablet screen towards himself from next to his pillow. 

But two minutes in to the video of Hime-Sama reviewing a Bunraku performance she had recently seen, Ginoza Nobuchika was fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting three chapters at one go. Stay tuned for biweekly updates from now on. Hope this story has gotten you interested enough for that. 
> 
> Also, if you liked this, please do check out my other work: Chained (which is an SNK AU, Levi x OC tale with a serial killer twist)   
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971636/chapters/57657481


	4. Odoroki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe because she was afraid to get to know him. Like she had gotten to know Kougami Shinya. Maybe because as Shion said, he had made his admiration for her a little too obvious and scared her away. Being too protective, being too concerned, being too reliable. Being too everything.

He had the afternoon shift. But he managed to be late even for that. It was not like him.

As Ginoza rode the elevator toward the Division floor, he realized he was not himself. Hadn’t been for a while now. He also wished someone cared enough to notice. Tsunemori might have. But she’d ask a few questions and leave it at that. She had stopped trying to understand him. Maybe because she was afraid to get to know him. Like she had gotten to know Kougami Shinya. Maybe because as Shion said, he had made his admiration for her a little too obvious and scared her away. Being too protective, being too concerned, being too reliable. Being too everything. And nothing. Nothing that she wanted.

What did it matter anyway? He was the hound, he was supposed to misbehave. She was the inspector, she had to take responsibility.

Caught up as he was in these thoughts, it took him longer than normal to notice the shift in the atmosphere around him. People seemed to be buzzing, talking excitedly about something. They kept flitting about, like they were trying to work off excess energy. Was there a fire in the building? He entered the Division 1 office, to find everyone - Tsunemori, Shimotsuki, Sugo, Yayoi and Hinakawa huddled in conversation. No one noticed him come in.

For a second he felt he may as well just turn around and go back to his rooms. He could watch more videos, granted he had probably seen them all. _So what?_ He would rewatch. No one would miss him. No one would even notice. But then a little bit of his old self managed to assert control.

“What’s going on?” he asked, loudly enough to make Hinakawa jump.

“Ah, Ginoza San,” Tsunemori said, “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

Yayoi gave him an expressionless once-over.

“Hime-Sama has come to meet Kasei,” she said.

But before Ginoza had the chance to process that, Tsunemori’s communicator rang, making Hinakawa jump again.

“Tsunemori Kanshikan,” Kasei’s voice barked from her wrist, “You and your entire team, in my office right now.”

“Even the Enforcers?” Tsunemori asked, uncertainly.

“Yes, especially them.”


	5. Hajimemashite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn’t just ask the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department if she was a cyborg masquerading as a human being. Or perhaps just a soulless vessel of the Dark Lord. Probably the latter, if she was placing bets.

It wasn’t something you asked.

Though to be honest, she was, like, 99% sure.

But still, you didn’t just ask the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department if she was a cyborg masquerading as a human being. Or perhaps just a soulless vessel of the Dark Lord. Probably the latter, if she was placing bets.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kasei asked in a voice that echoed from the Abyss.

“Yes,” she replied, “I gave it a fair bit of thought on the ride here.”

“I was under the impression that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs had explicitly instructed you to steer clear of the PSB.”

“Chief Kasei, please,” she drawled from her perch on the Chief’s ginormous table, “I am royalty. I hate being told what to do.”

“And is that the only reason you are here?”

“Let’s just say I’ve heard a lot of stories about your... work. And the latent criminals you employee as, what are they called? Enforcers? Then our conversation last week at the banquet, short as it was, really piqued my interest. But it wasn’t until last night that I realized…”

“Realized what, my dear?”

“That our goals are more aligned than at first they appear.”

“I was right then. You are more than just the glamorous little doll you’ve convinced everyone to see you as.”

“The wisdom of old age, I suppose.”

“I look forward to our conversations,” said Lilith of the Dark Valley with a smile, “short as they are.”

“Now, if you would be so kind as to summon your officers?”

Kasei called up the number on her screen without looking away. Seriously, the woman needed to blink more if she wanted to convince anyone.

“Tsunemori Kanshikan,” Kasei said the moment the call was answered. “You and your entire team, in my office right now.”

“Even the Enforcers?” the young voice at the other end asked, uncertainly.

“Yes, especially them,” Kasei confirmed and then cut the call. “And so it begins,” she whispered from the well of the eternally damned.

_It began twenty-eight years ago._

Arsalan smiled under her niqab.


	6. Hime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kasei glanced back at Hime Sama and then at Ginoza. 
> 
> “Behave,” she said and then strode past them and out the door.

Ginoza was the last one to file in to Kasei’s office. A shiver ran down his spine at the sight of the Chief. Then disappeared midway down his back as he saw the person standing beyond her. Hime Sama was shining in white, as always. Her back to them as she stared up at the wall-sized screen beyond Kasei’s desk which currently displayed Division 1’s personnel information. Again his attention was diverted as Kasei stepped up to them, bearing down on him as he happened to be the closest. She made as if to say something, but was cut off by Hime Sama herself. 

“Kasei Sama,” Hime said, her voice just like he remembered from his late-night binges, “Thank you for calling them. If we could please have the room?” The screen went blank. Hime Sama continued to glow.

Kasei glanced back at her and then at Ginoza. 

“Behave,” she said and then strode past them and out the door. 

_Behave? What had he ever done to be told that? Moreover, had Hime Sama just kicked the Chief of the CID out of her own office?_

He focussed back on Hime when he heard her sigh. He was one distraction away from mental whiplash. 

“Let’s get this over with,” she whispered. 

Hime Sama unzipped and then took off her white leather jacket. She placed it on Kasei’s table. Underneath she was wearing a fitted white shirt. Then reached behind her head and pressed a specific point on her glittering crown. It unfolded from around her like a lotus unfurling. She placed it gently on top of the jacket. Finally, she pulled out the pins that held her headscarf in place and undid that. She shook her head, unraveling her long, dark auburn hair. And finally, she turned around to face them, reached up as they watched and undid her niqab. 

She looked at them all with a smile and a slight tilt of her head. Then she placed the niqab on the table with the rest of her things, stepped forward, and bowed. 

“Hajimemashite. Watashi wa Arusuran desu. Yorushiko Onegaishimasu.” 

No. No, he definitely wasn’t imagining this. Arusuran Hime Sama was definitely the woman they had arrested last night. The woman who had kicked a criminal twice her size right in the blockhole. The one who had inexplicably vanished from the paddy wagon. The one who had held on to his hand… 

_Hime Sama held my hand. Hime Sama is standing in front of me. Hime Sama - wait, what am I forgetting?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go! Three more chapters! I know they are really small, but I hope you like them!


	7. Mitekure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me tell you a story,” Arsalan said, relenting. “Once upon a time, there was a man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big, cuddly Arigatou to @Hehnihere for her wonderful beta-ing!

Arsalan waited. For her greeting to be returned. For some sign of recognition. For something. Anything. And continued to wait. 

_ Seriously?  _

Maybe she had overdone it with that reveal. Well, at least she had stuck to just taking her hijab and niqab off. If she had gone all the way, like she had initially planned, they’d probably all be dead of aneurysms. She took another step closer and took another stab at it. 

“I apologize if I inconvenienced your investigation last night,” she continued, “I would have spoken to you, but the blood was making me uncomfortable. I am here to rectify that and answer any questions you may have for me.” 

She waited some more. 

Had she broken the PSB’s finest? 

“Okay,  _ someone _ say something!” She pitched her voice louder in exasperation. 

Well, that certainly did it! A princess throwing a tantrum usually did. 

Division 1 was suddenly a flurry of introductions. One, two, three, four, five… and finally, him. Arsalan smiled at him. He squinted back. 

“It’s you,” he said. 

“It’s been a while huh?” she replied, “It’s good to see you again Teppei San.”

Another stunned silence. 

“Okay, no, just no. No more staring in silence. Please let’s just sit down and talk.” 

And they did. In the spacious seating area to the side that Kasei definitely hadn’t used in years, if ever. A little awkwardly at first, but the questions poured forth. 

“So Sugo San,” Tsunemori asked, “You know Hime Sama?”

“Yes,” Sugo replied, a little nervous “we met when I was stationed at SEAUn.”

“What were you doing in SEAUn Hime Sama?”

“I know Japanese people really like their honorifics, but I took the crown off so we could talk without formalities getting in the way. My name is Arsalan, I request you most humbly to use it.”

“What were you doing in SEAUn, Arusuran San?” Tsunemori modified. 

“I was stationed there with Easriin Royal Army.” 

“Eh! You were in the military?” That was Shimotsuki Mika, the junior investigator. 

“Military service is compulsory for everyone in Easriin.” 

“So your King can make anyone go fight his wars?” Shimotsuki was clearly shocked by the revelation. 

“I’m sure we don't know enough about the conflicts in the outside world to be asking that question.” 

Arsalan did not miss the way Tsunemori had rushed in to cover for her junior. Nor how she placed her hand on Shimotsuki’s arm. “I can share my service records with you,” she said brightly, “That would give you an idea. About the conflicts.” 

“I’m sure that would be enlightening, Arusuran San,” Tsunemori replied with a smile. 

“Cela,” Arsalan brought her wrist device to command her AI in English. The tall, blonde facsimile who lived within the crystal confines of her bracelet appeared. “Send Tsunemori Kanshikan of the MWPSB CID my service records, please.” 

“That’s an interesting piece of equipment,” Tsunemori remarked, as the AI confirmed the command and disappeared back in the crystal. 

“We may not have AIs capable of measuring the soul yet, but we get by.” 

“Are those diamonds?”

“No, they are mecha crystals. Basically glass microchips. One of Earsiin’s biggest exports. The source of my family’s wealth.” 

“Is that how you got out last night?”

“Yes. Cela contacted my team. They arranged for my extraction.” 

“Your team?”

“Yes, my team.”

“Who are they?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Extraction? Not at liberty to say? Who speaks like that?” Shimoutsuki chimed in. “Are you even a real princess or is this all just some elaborate hoax?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes what?” Shimotsuki asked, leaning forward. 

“Yes. What?” Arsalan asked, mirroring her body language. Shimotsuki sat back and crossed her legs. So did Arsalan, throwing the investigator further off-kilter. 

Shimotsuki and Tsunemori were the only ones who had actually sat down at her request. The enforcers were standing, spread out between the seating area and Kasei’s desk. Teppei San was the closest, standing behind the two investigators. The woman, Kunizuka stood a step behind him. Hinakawa was to Arsalan’s left and the tall enforcer from the night before, Ginoza, stood the furthest away, right by Kasei’s desk. 

In effect, a representation of the social classes in this country. Clear hues. Latent criminals. The investigators were younger than her and lived in the free world. The enforcers, barring Hinakawa, were older and all of them lived in the basement of this building. They stood casually, but Arsalan didn’t miss the alert postures. Except for Hinakawa. The red-haired boy looked like he spent too much time slouched in front of a screen. 

“Let me tell you a story,” Arsalan said, relenting. “Once upon a time, there was a man. This man had a brother. He loved his brother.  _ He _ wasn’t that bright - worked in mid-management, somewhere insignificant. But  _ his brother _ , his brother was one of those sunshine kids. The kind who can do no wrong? He scored like a 650 in his final exams and landed this dream job with a firm that manufactures drone carriers? 

One day, this sunshine brother was on his way back from work. He was taking the subway. One single stop before he was supposed to get down, a group of people got on the carriage he was on and shot everyone on board. The last thing the brother did before passing out on the floor of the subway was, call the man. 

Weeks after his brother’s funeral, this man’s hue continued to cloud. Instead of seeking help or checking in to an isolation facility, the man chose to run. He escaped scanners and found his way to Jet Quarter. No one knows what happened to the man there. Some say, he started using hue-cleansing drugs and died of an overdose. Some say he started making hue-cleansing drugs. Some say he is now the biggest name in the underground drug trade. They say he created the strongest hue-cleansing drug known. They say the street name of this drug is Kirito.” 

Tsunemori paled, just a little bit, her eyes turning inward. But Shimotsuki looked ready to burst out. Her freckled nose was crinkled and she looked about ready to stamp her feet and bang her fists on the ground. 

_ Such an interesting senpai-kouhai duo.  _

Hinakawa was occupied with his tablet. Her research suggested he had a massive drug problem. So one could only guess what he was trying to look up. Yayoi looked bored, but her eyes had not left Arsalan for a moment. Teppei San looked like, well, Teppei San. And in the farthest corner, Ginoza was looking at the floor. Perhaps he felt her eyes on him. He looked up and for a second, he gazed right in to her eyes. It was like he was trying to tell her something through that connection. But she didn’t quite catch it before Tsunemori interrupted her with another question. 

“Why were you pretending to be a sex worker?” 

“It’s cute that you think they let people my age even pretend to be in the business.”

“What were you doing there Arusuran San?” 

“I was working with the brothel you raided. Dealing with clients who went out of line.” 

“That doesn’t answer my question, Arusuran San.”

“There’s this village called Beer Ajam. Small. About a hundred families. But really old. Lies at the fringes of the territory administered by the Jamali’s. A few years ago, there was a considerable drop in their agricultural produce. They farm mainly olive trees. Traditionally, it’s the women who harvest the olives and it was reported that they were refusing to go to the orchards, especially in the evenings. My father sent my oldest aunt to investigate. And she came back with this bizarre story. Apparently, the women claimed that the orchards had become infested with demons. Vicious, vengeful demons. And that it was no longer safe to work there. Or even set foot among the trees. That several of them had been attacked. A couple of women had even gone missing. Never to be seen again.”

Arsalan leaned back in her seat again. 

“Tsunemori San, was anyone from the PSB deployed to Jet Quarter during the Helmet Riots?”

If Tsunemori was phased by this sudden change in direction, she didn’t show it. She glanced over at Ginoza, who was still looking down.  _ Just what the hell was so fascinating about the floor?  _ Unable to find solace in the one other person who knew the truth about that time, she looked back at Arsalan. 

“Why do you ask?”

“Seven months ago, the NUN approached the Japanese Ministry about a video that had reached them. In return, they were buried in paperwork. Reports, national statistics, casefiles, mental health surveys.” Arsalan paused, “Psycho Pass data.” Again Shimotsuki’s nostrils flared. Again Tsunemori guarded her expression. “The NUN analysts found that a  _ statistically abnormal percentage of the data _ referencing bodily harm or loss of life was connected to the Ministry of Welfare’s Public Safety Bureau.” Arsalan took a moment to look in to the eyes of each of her audience members. Except Ginoza, of course. He was still invested in the floor. “So to answer your question about what was the NUN HRC Task Force Taichou doing in Jet Quarter… well, I was hunting demons.” 

Tsunemori looked at her. Her large, expressive eyes, scrutinizing what she could see and what she couldn’t. She blinked. Once. Twice. 

“You’re investigating the PSB,” Tsunemori said, “for Human Rights Violations.” 

“Cela,” Arsalan said in English, not taking her eyes off the investigator, “please send Tsunemori Kanshikan of the MWPSB CID the uncensored version of the Jet Quarter Massacre.” She switched back to Japanese. “I just sent you the video that came to the NUN. Normally, I would caution you against watching it, but I have a feeling that Division 1 is made of sterner stuff. This video started it all.”

“Started what exactly?” 

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Arsalan winked such that only Tsunemori saw and stood up. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to ask?”

“Why do you always wear white?”

The question came from a surprising quarter. Kunizuka Yayoi. Arsalan walked over to where she had deposited her things. She stood next to Ginoza as she answered. 

“Last night, I noticed that the investigators were wearing a jacket with the PSB insignia on it. While the enforcers were not. It’s something like that. I don’t  _ always _ wear white, but when I do, it’s to let everyone watching know who I am. Also, my PR team thought it would be a symbolic extension of the colour of my hue.” She started folding up all her belongings. “Anything else, pertaining to the enforcement performed yesterday, perhaps?” 

“Not at the moment,” Tsunemori said. 

Arsalan turned to regard her with a smile. 

“Then I better get going,” She bent down and retrieved her satchel from where she had stowed it and started to put all her accouterments in it, neatly and fastidiously. “If you don’t mind?”

“Of course,” Tsunemori stood and bowed to her, “It was a pleasure meeting you Arusuran San.”

“Same here,” she said, then shouldered her satchel. This next move was supposed to be Teppei. That was the plan. But plans only last till the first shot is fired. “Ginoza San?” The man raised his eyes from the floor to her face. He looked stunned at being addressed. But quickly hid that under the neutral mask he seemed practiced at wearing. “Could I request you to escort me to the exit?” 

Arsalan didn’t miss the way Ginoza flinched or how Shimotsuki’s face whipped in his direction. But before the kouhai could object, Tsunemori answered on Ginoza’s behalf. “Of course, Ginoza San please help our guest reach her vehicle safely.” 

Arsalan smiled and walked to the door of Kasei’s office, certain the man was following. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in chapters from Arsalan's perspective, she will refer to herself as Arsalan. In Ginoza chapters, she is Arusuran. Just like all the Japanese characters call her Arusuran. It's the Japanese pronunciation of the name. 
> 
> Also, this chapter was hard and went through numerous revisions. I hope you like it!


	8. Arigatou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ginoza San,” she said, further startling him. He managed to continue walking next to her. “Are you well?”
> 
> “I am fine,” he said softly, then cleared his throat and said a little louder, “Just a little sleep-deprived.” Baka, she didn’t need to know that. “Thank you for asking though.”

Ginoza followed Hime Sama… No, Arusuran San… No… 

Ginoza followed the woman he had been following virtually every night for the past month, out Kasei’s office. He stayed a step behind her, eyes trained on her white boots as they clacked on ahead of him. So he was able to stop immediately when she did. He looked up, hoping he didn’t look like a deer caught in the headlights, to find her smiling at him, gently gesturing for him to walk next to her. 

What was he supposed to do here? His education hadn’t included protocol on dealing with royalty. Suddenly Kasei’s admonishment didn’t seem so far-fetched. He stepped next to her and they started walking again. 

“Ginoza San,” she said, further startling him. He managed to continue walking next to her. “Are you well?”

“I am fine,” he said softly, then cleared his throat and said a little louder, “Just a little sleep-deprived.”  _ Baka, she didn’t need to know that.  _ “Thank you for asking though.”

“I was wondering if you could help me understand something?” 

“I will if I can.” 

“I don’t really understand how a Psycho-Pass works. But I had a hue check done before coming in today. It was the same. White. Low twenties. Was it higher last night?”

“No, no it wasn’t.”  _ It was the truth at least.  _

“So then, why did you arrest me?” 

Ginoza flinched again, feeling like he had missed a step. 

“It was,” he said, tentatively, “for your own protection and mental care.” 

By this time they had reached the elevators and Ginoza pressed the button for one. Next to him, Arusuran chuckled. 

“I thought latent criminals would be better at lying,” she said. 

He looked at her. “If anything, being a latent criminal makes you more honest. No point in lying anymore.”  _ Not to others. Not to yourself. _

The elevator arrived with a ding. The doors swung open. Ginoza placed his hand to prevent them from closing. 

“I believe you,” Arusuran said and then walked in. 

He got in and again, stood next to her. The elevator was thankfully empty. 

_ Hmmm, what a thing to be thankful for! _

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. He turned to look at her, surprised. “If I was the reason you were deprived of sleep last night, I’m sorry. Being covered in blood like that… brought back some bad memories. I couldn’t stay like that.”

“Arusuran San doesn’t owe me an explanation,” he said, confident in his words for the first time since she started talking to him, “But, I feel honoured that you chose to tell me anyway.” 

She turned to him. He turned to her. Back to being uncertain. 

“Ginoza San,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes searching his face for something before settling on to his eyes like that was where it was. “Thank you for your help last night. That was the single kindest thing anyone has done for me since I’ve come to this country. The PSB should be proud to have officers like you on their side.” 

It was like all the little unexpected things she had said to him in the past five minutes were a build-up to this single shock she delivered now. 

The elevator reached the ground. The doors dinged open. And he just stood there, unable to move. 

“I’ll be seeing you,” she said and walked out of the elevator. Something about the image of doors closing behind her snapped him back to life. He pushed them open and ran after her. 

“Wait,” he yelled. Embarrassingly enough, she was just beyond the doors and he ran right in to her. Even more embarrassingly, she steadied him, one hand on his chest and one on the small of his back. The touch was fleeting, gone as soon as it was deemed unnecessary. 

“Ginoza San?”

“Arusuran San,” He was breathless, from two steps of running and nearly falling on top of her. “H-how do you plan to...?”

Sure enough when he looked at the exit, just beyond the safety line, was a veritable swarm of journalists, TV vans and news anchors, with their drones floating everywhere. He knew Hime Sama had landed on the Nona Tower helipad. So did the press apparently. They were waiting for a piece of her. So why was Arusuran leaving through the front door?

He looked back at her, very concerned. She was smiling though.

“Ginoza San worries too much.” 

With those words, she ripped open her shirt. Revealing something grey underneath. She took her arms out of the sleeves and then wrapped and knotted them on her back. Now it looked like she was wearing a kimono-themed formal top. Next, she unzipped sections of her trousers and somehow from white trousers they went to being a grey and white striped skirt. She whipped one hand through her hair, wrapping it in to a bun and with the other, she slipped off her white boots. The boots went in to her satchel and out came a pair of glasses and practical work shoes, like the kind Tsunemori wore. She slipped both on. She shifted her satchel around to make it resemble the kind of messenger bag almost everyone who worked at the PSB carried.

And then as if on cue, all the elevators dinged open and out poured the PSB workers whose morning shift had just ended. They walked past Ginoza without breaking stride. And with them walked Arusuran. He watched, almost mesmerized by how her gait shifted to match their weary but quick pace. So much so that he lost track of her. He watched the grey, white and black mass walk straight out the exit and through the media swarm, completely unharassed. He watched them all walk away. Except for one grey and white figure, that stopped just past the media circus to turn and wave cheerfully at the tower. 

No, to wave at him. 

Even though he knew she couldn’t see him, Ginoza found himself waving back with the same enthusiasm. 

And as he waved, for probably the first time in months, Ginoza Nobuchika laughed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, if you're reading this, please leave some comments. Even if it's just a "Hey Gurl!". It would really mean a lot to know real people are reading this!


	9. Kaibutsu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who was watching, they looked like two colleagues sharing a working lunch at one of those fancy new restaurants in Yokohama that specialized in serving live food. Talking shop. Shooting the breeze. Comparing dick-pics. Whatever it was that colleagues did these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight T/W for mentions of murder and suicide.

The man was eating a bowl of natto. A bowl. A full bowl. Of just natto. 

Well, he looked like he was enjoying it. So Arsalan did her best not to judge and continued slurping her miso. 

The natto eater’s name was Kubo Hiromu. He lived in Yokohama and worked as a feature writer for the city’s biggest tabloid. He was wearing an off-white jacket, with a purple flower in the lapel, over light-grey chequered trousers. His long hair was tied up in a neat bun. He had intelligent eyes and a shining stud pierced into the left side of his nose. He had his notebook out, like any good journalist should. Arsalan had her hair short and brown today. Her eyes were a piercing blue. She was wearing dark trousers and a yellow top. On her wrist, she wore her bracelet of mecha crystals. And no other jewellery. Nothing flashy, nothing white. Just two normal people. 

To anyone who was watching, they looked like two colleagues sharing a working lunch at one of those fancy new restaurants in Yokohama that specialized in serving live food. Talking shop. Shooting the breeze. Comparing dick-pics. Whatever it was that colleagues did these days. 

It was amazing, how when you scratched just a little, you could uncover so many secrets. That lay just underneath the surface. For instance, when you scratched at Kubo Hiromu, you discovered that he was formerly Sasayama Rin. But Sasayama Rin had committed suicide in Tokyo, because of  _ her  _ abusive father. Sasayama Rin, the poor girl, was dead. Kubo Hiromu was eating natto in front of her. That was  _ his _ cover. Just like today, Kougami Arisa, commufield anarchist, was Arsalan’s. 

Sasayama Rin had had a brother. Mitsuru had attacked her father and helped her escape to a new name, new gender and a new city. Mitsuru became a latent criminal as a result. And was soon enough picked up by the PSB to serve as their hound. No one knew about Sasayama Rin in Yokohama. No one there bothered to scratch the surface. 

Rebirth suited Kubo Hiromu well. He ran a number of fluff pieces on lifestyle and hue-maintenance. His disposition at work was described as sunny and upbeat, just like his pale yellow hue. But Kubo San hadn’t forgotten his other life. He hadn’t forgotten her brother. And he hadn’t forgotten how that life had ended. 

But what could a journalist do about these things? 

He could scratch the surface. And Arsalan was here to see just how deep Hiromu had scratched. As the one person who Kubo Hiromu would trust. Someone who had lost a brother to the system just like he had. And because Mitsuru had trusted Kougami Shinya. So Hiromu would trust Kougami Shinya’s supposedly estranged sister, Arisa. At the very least, he’d let Kougami Arisa buy him lunch. 

“What exactly did they tell you about your brother?”

“That he ran away. They didn’t specify more than that. They did say he would be eliminated. If he returns.” All of this was true. “Okaasan has accepted that we will never see Ya Chan again.” This unfortunately, was also true. 

“And you?” 

“I didn’t spend much time with him. But I don’t think Ani wouldn’t just abandon his duty.” 

Shinya had apparently continued to care for Hiromu at the behest of his brother. He visited him at least once a month. At least till he was capable of visiting anyone. Sasayama and Kougami had been close. Mitsuru’s murder had nearly driven Shinya mad. It had certainly clouded him enough to ruin his career. Demoted him from leading detective to lowly enforcer. 

If it hadn’t been for Kougami, Hiromu would never even have known that his brother was dead. That Sasayama Mitsuru became the last of the Specimen murders. 

They ate in silence for a while. This conversation was Hiromu’s to lead. All Arsalan had to do was wait. 

“What is a latent criminal really?” Hiromu asked after a short while. “Have you ever thought about that?”

“Someone who’s crime coefficient has increased beyond a hundred and won't come down?” Arsalan ventured. 

“Yes, but what does that mean? What is their latent intent? What changes in their brains? Or their personalities? There are no clear guidelines, you know. No specific literature. In the past thirty years, no one has undertaken a study to catalogue the psyche of latent criminals. My brother got clouded, saving me. Yours was an investigator... He only became an investigator because Sybil approved him for a career in the CID. And that same system branded him a latent criminal when the work it recommended him for became too much.”

“Ya Chan could have paid more attention to his hue. He didn’t attend the mandatory therapy sessions.”

“If they were mandatory, how come he had a choice in whether to attend them or not?” 

“So what? Now you’re saying the System should force people to take therapy? Even if it is for their own good, do you really think that Sybil System should take away free will?”

Kugo San paused and wiped his mouth on a napkin. 

“I am saying that there  _ is _ no free will. The System manipulates you in to clouding your hue so it can use you.”

“Use you for what?”

“To control the rest of the herd. Investigators are some of the brightest individuals, their tests scores are among the highest. If they can fall, the rest of us better be extra-careful and toe the line. Most investigators don’t live to see their fortieth birthday. In the past five years, not a single investigator has completed their ten to move on to a ministerial position. And no enforcer has ever retired. Not a single one. They have all been killed in the line of duty or enforced by their own teams.”

Statistically, that was worse than mercenary survival rates out in the larger world. Arsalan knew that. She also knew some details of the Hungry Chicken incident. Where nearly all PSB enforcers and a couple of detectives had been slaughtered. She had enough data from other sources to corroborate Kubo San’s words. 

“But if the System is controlling free will, why would investigators support it?” she asked, “Like you said, they are the best and the brightest.”

“Which is exactly why Sybil System keeps them close. It controls them the most and punishes them the hardest.” 

Arsalan thought about those words. It made sense. Reward and Punishment. It’s how human behaviour had been controlled since the beginning of time. 

“I often wonder why Mitsuru got killed.” Hiromu continued with a scoff, “How exactly did an enforcer, someone who is being monitored every second of every day become the victim of a serial killer? How do serial killers even exist in this perfect society of ours? How does someone like that escape Sybil System’s notice?” Hiromu paused, pinning Arsalan down with his eyes. But Arsalan knew he wasn’t waiting for an answer. “It’s all a lie,” Hiromu said. “I believe the PSB always knew who was committing those murders. I believe they sheltered that person. Are possibly still sheltering them. And that is what darkened Kougami Shinya’s hue. The lack of closure. Because ultimately, there was no hope for justice, for Mitsuru or any of the people butchered. Kougami Shinya was wilfully manipulated in to denying his own principles. And that’s probably what happened to his partner as well.”

“His partner? Ginoza Nobuchika?”

“Yes, him. They used to be brilliant together apparently.”

“Ya Chan and Ginoza San were best friends. Since their time at Nittou. He got demoted too, right?”

“I have a friend who covers the crime beat in Tokyo. It’s a joke, really. All they are allowed to do is print how wonderful things are. To show the public what good care the PSB and Sybil are taking of them.” Hiromu scoffed. He did that a lot. “To do so, she receives a weekly release of Division-wise investigations-in-progress and cases solved. The week after the Helmet Riots, the weekly release showed Division 1 was not working on any active cases. Just finishing reports. Yet, by the end of that week, two Division 1 enforcers were dead, another had somehow become a wanted criminal and an investigator was in critical condition.”

Arsalan knew some of the details of that week. In fact, other than the actual people involved, she was probably the only other person who knew. So it was very interesting that Hiromu had picked up the anomaly. She found herself being thoroughly impressed by the young man’s resourcefulness. But he wasn’t done yet. 

“Another contact of mine,” Hiromu continued, “is a nurse at the isolation facility the PSB uses. According to him, Ginoza was a wreck when they brought him in there. Mentally, physically. His medical file said he had lost nearly 50% of his blood volume in an unspecified “accident”. His crime coefficient had shot up to 260. He was unresponsive to treatment, completely withdrawn and unable to sleep because of constant nightmares. But he was not allowed access to a therapist. Not for the first whole week. Then he received a visit from the other Division 1 detective. Tsunemori Akane. She stayed with him the whole day. The next day, when he was finally taken to therapy, he apparently claimed to remember nothing about the accident. An accident that cost him his arm and almost cost him his sanity. How does that happen? How did Ginoza get so traumatized in a week where his division was  **not working any cases** ? Do they honestly expect us to believe that report-writing got really stressful?” 

Arsalan had always been a very visual thinker, capable of bringing almost anything to life within her mind’s eye. So as Hiromu listed inconsistency after inconsistency, a very vivid picture of the isolation facility flashed before her. She tried to reconcile the image of someone stuck in his personal purgatory with the latent criminal who held her hand so steadily even though it was covered in blood. The serious enforcer who seemed shocked by her simple show of gratitude. The awkward man who wouldn’t look up from the floor while she was in the room. 

“It’s a lie, Arisa Chan, it’s all a lie.”

Arsalan continued to think about her conversation with Kubo Hiromu as she walked to the station after lunch. She thought of Teppei Aniki and his kindness, which she still remembered from all that time ago. She thought of Hinakawa Sho and how he had bungled his own introduction. Of Kunizuka Yayoi, who used to compose music and write songs before she got entrapped in this life. And she thought of Ginoza Nobuchika. 

The System said that they were all dangerous. That they needed to be collared and controlled. That they were monsters, just waiting for their chance to strike. 

It was raining again by the time she made it back in to Tokyo. Arsalan pulled out her windbreaker from her satchel and pulled it on. She could head home. But these were not the sort of thoughts she wanted to carry back there. She needed coffee. And a place to sit. And chocolate cake. She definitely needed chocolate cake. Mind made up, she started walking toward one of her favourite cafes in Harajuku. On the way, she made sure to linger under a street scanner. 

After all, it was good to let the world know just how white your hue was today, wasn’t it? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaibutsu is one of my favourite Japanese words. And yes I got it from the song and book title: Namae No Nai Kaibutsu.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q9WcG0OMElo
> 
> This chapter is where I have started taking liberties with the original timeline and events. Canon states that Sasayama Mitsuru became a latent criminal while trying to save his sister from sexual abuse by their father. She later commits suicide. So I thought it would be interesting to resurrect them instead as a gender-bending ally. Also, in case there is any confusion, Hiromu is written as a transman. Hence gender pronouns He/Him. You're definitely going to be seeing more of him in future chapters.


	10. Kaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touma. Makishima. Kamui.   
> Arusuran.   
> Sasayama. Kagari. Masaoka. Aoyanagi.   
> Kougami.   
> Tsunemori. Shimotsuki. Kasei.   
> Sybil System.

This was stupid. 

A week ago, Ginoza Nobuchika felt like something right had happened in his life. He felt… happy? No,  _ happy  _ would be exaggerating it. He felt… better. Yes, better than he had been feeling. Better. 

For about four minutes. 

And then he had entered the Division 1 office to discover that everything that had made him feel better was invalid. Like always. 

Apparently, Sugo hadn’t met Arusuran as an allied soldier in SEAUn. He hadn’t even known she was a soldier. In fact, he hadn’t even known she was a  _ she _ . He simply knew her as the teenage boy from the village nearby who regularly snuck on to the base to watch planes fly. Who Sugo had taken under his wing, because the boy’s dream was to become a Guardian,  _ just like Teppei Aniki _ . Sugo now sincerely hoped he hadn’t revealed any sensitive information to the kid. Because Arusuran Hime Sama wasn’t just military. 

_ "Defence Military Intelligence. Earsiin inherited the system from the Saudis.” _

_ “Is that what s-s-she is doing here? S-spying on us?” _

_ “Why would Kasei let her talk to us then?” _

_ “You think the CID Chief isn’t capable of playing games with her own officers?” _

_ “There’s something bigger at stake here. I just don’t know what it is.” _

_ “You think we are being targeted?” _

_ “What the hell were all her stories about anyway?” _

Shion ran a check of the whole building to find evidence of tampering or bugs. She came up empty-handed. Shimotsuki suggested releasing the information about her real identity to the press. Tsunemori strongly felt like that would somehow be playing in to Arusuran’s hands, especially if she had her eyes set on the PSB. 

And then Tsunemori turned to him. In her sweet, even-tempered manner, she grilled him for a good hour about his ten-minute private conversation with Arusuran when he took her to the exit. He had told her everything - the conversation about her psycho pass, the thanks for his help, the blending in with the workers. Even though he felt violated doing so. That elevator ride had been his. Until it wasn’t. Just like everything else. 

It was stupid. He was stupid. 

Because he honestly felt like he had heard one conversation in Kasei’s office and the team had heard a completely different one. To him, Hime had seemed like Hime, just without the niqab on. She told stories, like she always did, she laughed, like she always did and she didn't give you the truth directly, like always. 

He saw what was in front of him. Shimotsuki saw a pretender. Tsunemori saw a threat. 

The video she had sent divided them further. It was 6 minutes long. And each second was inhuman. Hinakawa left the room first. The Shimotsuki ran out. Sugo and Yayoi turned away. Shion lasted longer, but she looked away as well. He had tried to prevent Tsunemori from watching. But he had never had the power to compel her to do anything. So Tsunemori had watched all the way to when the camera blacked-out and he had stood behind her as each frame pressed in to their memory like a sick dream played out to words that sounded eerily familiar.

_ In order to measure a person’s worth, you must do more than push them. The real way to test their worth is to give them power. When they gain the freedom to act outside the boundaries of law and ethics, you can sometimes see their souls. _

Words of the last criminally asymptomatic psychopath they had encountered, brought to them by the latest criminally asymptomatic person to crash land in to their paths. 

And then, two days after Arusuran had pulled her exclusive reveal for Division 1. Another video had dropped. This time on the Japanese Intranet. A whole room of people who looked like they were attending some group meditation, wearing white clothes in blacklight with VR goggles on. Then something switched and they started screaming. Before rising up and killing each other. 

The video was seen and downloaded fifteen million times before Karanomori managed to bring it down. And then it went up again. And again. And again. 

Area stress spiked all across Tokyo. All Divisions were on call 24x7. They were unable to find the location the video was shot in. They were unable to verify when it was shot. They were unable to find any bodies. They couldn’t even verify if it was real or just some stunt. It took a week for things to stabilize. Ironically, one of the biggest contributing factors to the restoration of calm was a new public address by Hime Sama. She stood in front of the camera, dressed all in white and told a story. About four people who should have gone to hell but end up in heaven. And how they try to hide their flaws. Only to discover that heaven was hell all along. At one point there were holo butterflies everywhere, and Ginoza could have sworn that that was the exact moment the collective anxiety of the city finally calmed down. 

“I understand what you feel. But we can’t take the chance that this isn’t some new game,” Tsunemori told him.

She understood what he felt? Funny. Because he had no idea. 

Touma. Makishima. Kamui. 

Arusuran. 

Sasayama. Kagari. Masaoka. Aoyanagi. 

Kougami. 

Tsunemori. Shimotsuki. Kasei. 

Sybil System. 

Because at the end of the day, he never was going to be as good as Kougami. 

He would never see the game before he had already lost. 

“Ginoza San,” Sugo broke in to his circling thoughts, “how are you holding out?” 

“Still alive,” Ginoza replied. He swallowed the pill, his third in the past hour, and pulled his facemask back on. 

“You know those aren’t candy, right?”

“Relax Sugo, it’s not like one can overdose on cold medication.” Well, at least he hoped not. But his voice was beginning to sound distant even to his own ears. 

“Maybe we should call Shimotsuki and get you back.”

“You know if you call her, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“But Ginoza San-”

“Let it go Sugo. I’m fine.” 

He wasn’t fine. His head was splitting. His chest hurt from all the coughing. He knew he had a fever. The cold medication he had gotten from the infirmary had stopped working. Oh, and the rain was not helping either. 

Sugo’s communicator rang. It was Shimotsuki. 

“Hound 2, report.” 

This was what was so bloody stupid. 

“Subject is still at the cafe. She has had three coffees and two slices of chocolate cake since the last report. She just went inside to the counter. To perhaps get slice number three.”

“Be vigilant. Don’t you dare let her slip away this time.” 

Kasei had asked them to stay away from Arusuran. So of course, Tsunemori had decided to place Hime Sama under surveillance on the sly. 

Thus for the past six days, in addition to all their normal duties and the extra shifts patrolling the streets, they were now running extra, extra shifts to follow Arusuran around town. An enforcer or two led by an investigator. So much so had been forced to put a system in place where the enforcers could continue to watch even if they weren’t under the direct supervision of an investigator. This was Ginoza’s third consecutive shift, watching her. As she shopped, visited local sights, went to the theatre and sat for hours at different cafes. This one being her favourite. Mostly she looked like she had that day. But sometimes, she looked different, she wore different clothes, she changed her hair and sometimes her eye-colour. 

Shion kept track of her through the scanners. Her pure white hue was rare. One of a kind, really. So when Shion sounded the alarm, off they went. 

And on each of those occasions, they had inevitably lost track of her within a few hours. Then they got down to regular detective work, revisiting the locations she had gone to. Trying to pinpoint who she had spoken to and why. Even if it seemed utterly random, Ginoza’s logic agreed that there was a pattern. But he was too exhausted to see it. 

Today they had managed three whole hours. 

Three hours in which two enforcers sat on the roof of an abandoned warehouse that bordered the Harajuku shopping district, peering down at their target through binoculars. In the pouring rain. Sugo with a hood pulled over his eyes and Ginoza with a mask plastered to his nose and mouth. Shimotsuki was closer to the ground, keeping watch from a safe, warm and most importantly dry, bakery. But without a direct sightline to the target. Almost like she planned it. So it was all up to Sugo and Ginoza. Well, mostly Sugo. Because for a while now, Ginoza had been sitting on the floor. Back against the low roof wall, huddling in a raincoat, breath clogging in the black facemask, unable to keep himself upright. 

Maybe if he caught pneumonia and died - 

“I lost her.” 

“What?”

“I don’t see her.”

_ Shit.  _

“Should I… call it in?” 

“Wait.”

Shimotsuki chose exactly that moment to call in for her hourly check. 

“Wait,” Ginoza repeated. 

Ginoza stood up and pressed the binoculars to his eyes. He slowly scanned the area. The alley behind the cafe circled back to the main street. The street opened on one end to the high-end suites and residences and the other end led to a side-street and finally the ExpressWay. She wouldn’t go that way, not unless she had a pick-up waiting. Besides, she would have had to pass Shimotsuki if she went towards the ExpressWay. The residences? They hadn’t discovered where she lived yet. But wait, there was also a series of bylanes that led straight to - 

The rusty metal door to the roof banged open. 

Ginoza and Sugo turned around. 

“Konbanwa!”

And Arusuran was walking towards them, with a grin on her face. 

Ginoza slumped back to the ground. Sugo sat down next to him and answered his communicator. 

“Hound 2,” Shimotsuki yelled, “Do we have eyes on the target?” 

“Yes Shepard 2,” Sugo replied wearily, “We have eyes on the target.” 

Her hair was short and brown today. Like Akane’s. Her eyes were blue. Like Kougami’s. She was wearing dark trousers that reached her ankles, a yellow top under a windbreaker that reached her thighs. 

She came and sat down on her haunches before them, her knees neatly joined. 

“It’s been raining forever. I thought you guys could use something warm to drink?”

She held out a carrier with two large paper cups in it. Sugo hesitated, but Ginoza reached out and closed his freezing fingers around the warmth. As he did, he found her distractingly familiar blue eyes looking at him as if searching for something. Just like back in the elevator. He turned his face away to bring down the mask and take a sip. 

“Ginoza San, are you feeling alright?” 

He couldn’t taste what he was drinking, but the warm liquid soothed his throat. 

“I’m fine,” he lied, but his miserable voice probably gave him away. 

Arusuran looked at Sugo questioningly. 

“He has a cold,” Sugo supplied. 

_ Such a good friend!  _

“Wind?” Arusuran seemed confused. 

“Not - ” Ginoza puffed his cheeks to blow out some air. And then he coughed. “Cold.”

The Japanese word for both those things was said the same way. It wasn’t surprising that a foreigner got confused. 

“Oh.” The answer seemed to trouble her? Disappoint her? “There are at least three sheltered spots for surveillance of my last position. I know Shimotsuki Kanshikan is in one of them. Why did you choose this spot instead of the other two?”

“Errr…” 

_ Use your words Teppei.  _

“Because the establishments near those spots have cymatic scanners,” Ginoza said bluntly, earning a glare from Sugo.  _ Whatever.  _

Arusuran seemed to consider that information, “And with higher crime coefficients you would have drawn attention to yourselves there.”

“As latent criminals, we would have caused a Psycho Hazard if we strolled in to highstreet cafes to order a chai latte.” 

Sugo whacked him on the shoulder for that one. He probably deserved it. But given that Sugo was sitting on his left, the whack probably hurt him more than it did Ginoza. 

Again, Arusuran considered the information far more seriously than he had meant it. 

“Given that you two are surveilling a target without the direct supervision of an investigator, would I be correct in assuming you have a prescribed radius you need to maintain if target starts moving?”

“Err… well… that-”

“Seven fifty meters,” he blurted out. Sugo looked like he might hit him again. But that answer made Arusuran smile instead of worry. So he was okay with pissing the other man off. 

“Great,” she said, “Let’s go then!” She stood up to lead the way. 

“Go where?” Sugo asked, grabbing on to Ginoza’s jacket to keep him from following her. 

“How does it matter?” Arusuran asked with a mischievous smirk, “If target moves, you have to follow. Now call it in and let’s get out of the rain before Kaze San catches pneumonia and dies.”

She turned and walked out the door. Ginoza got up and followed. He did not feel dizzy. Not a lot anyway. Behind him, he heard Sugo report in.

“Target on the move. Hound 1 and Hound 2 following.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!   
> So the rules for the supervision of enforcers have been bent. I have a feeling Tsunemori would be okay with that! 
> 
> Also, it was kinda unsatisfying to me, how quickly Ginoza's anger cools post-Masaoka's death and his stint at rehab. I mean sure, we see traces of it when Risa dies and when they are battling the drones and Tsunemori puts herself on the frontline (such pure husband moments). So I kinda felt that what's really changed is that the anger just isn't expressed as much as it used to be? And that perhaps it's turned inwards. I tried to express that here. Do let me know if you think it comes across. 
> 
> Also, SuGino moments! So precious!
> 
> Also, also, the Defence Military Intelligence is the official intelligence service of Saudi Arabia. In this fic, I imagine the Jamalis (Arsalan's house) as having descended from the Saudis and then having grabbed power when an opportunity presented itself in the chaos in the Middle East. I think it serves my personal sense of poetic justice to have the centres of power in 2115 be concentrated in the Middle East and Africa. And for the New United Nations to spring from those areas. 
> 
> Also, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. It was rewritten and revised about seven different times!


	11. Kirei na Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How is Hiromu doing?”   
> Done with her dishwashing, Arsalan turned around to face him, leaning against the kitchen counter.   
> “He’s fine,” she said, “Very well-informed. Told me some interesting things.”   
> “He needs to let those things go.”  
> “And you’re the poster-child for letting things go, aren’t you?”  
> He rolled his eyes, taking a drag. “What did he say?”

_ How were these two latent criminals?  _

One looked like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him. And the other was just, standing there, his mask still on his face, hair plastered to his head, looking around with sleepy eyes. Like a child. And both of them looked as awkward as newborn foals inside her penthouse. 

Teppei Ani made some more incoherent noises as she took their raincoats and hung them up to drip out of the way. It was enough to make her want to throttle someone. 

“Teppei Ani,” she said, using the honorific she had called him back then, “You once whacked me for whistling at a girl. I know it’s been a while, but can we please stop with this… this” she ineffectually indicated the space between them. 

He sighed in what she assumed was defeat. 

“Thank you!”

She went in to her room and returned with towels for both of them. Teppei accepted it with a smile and gently dried himself. Ginoza just looked at the thing, like it was his first encounter with absorbent cloth. She seriously wanted to just grab it back and rub his head before he fell sicker than he obviously was. But given what she had observed of Japanese reserve so far, that would probably kill him. Or something. So she approached him and looked up in to his eyes. They were an interesting shade of green. Though a bit dull at the moment. 

“Ka-ze San?” she said with a fake cough to get his attention. She pointed to the towel in his hand and then rubbed her hand through her hair. He seemed to get the message then. 

_ Seriously, such a fucking child!  _

“Please, make yourselves at home. I’ll be right back.” 

The penthouse was modern and functional. With large seating areas, comfortable furniture, office space she never used, in addition to five bedrooms and baths. Windows that made it impossible for anyone to look in on her. Even with thermal imaging. And the kitchen of course. A kitchen was the heart of any living space in her opinion. That’s where she was right now. She put some coffee to percolate then set some milk to heat. 

This was one of the three residences she officially had access to within Tokyo. And the one she used the most. Even though it wasn’t home. It was also the only address her contacts and informants had in case they needed to reach her. You could have all the AI-controlled life you wanted, but money still spoke. No one questioned who the lady in the penthouse was or the people who came to visit her at odd hours. Suffice to say, these two weren’t the first latent criminals to drop in. 

She poured the heated milk into a tall glass with some sugar and pulled out the bottle of brandy she had stowed away in the cabinets. She added a shot to the milk. Considered and then added another. Then wrapped a warmer around it and took it outside. 

The two men were sitting on the single long sofa with less awkwardness than she had anticipated. Teppei looked neat but nervous. Ginoza was sitting a few feet from him, he had rolled down his mask, his nose was red and his hair stood out in all directions. She walked up to him and held out the glass. Again, he looked at it, confused as to its purpose. 

“It’s milk Kaze San. Drink.” He took it from her hands and raised it to his mouth. She caught his hand. “Slowly! It’s hot.” He looked at her hand and then at her face. She let go. “There’s some brandy in there. If anyone smells it on your breath, just say it’s cough syrup.” Then she turned to Teppei, “I’ve put some coffee to percolate. Let me change and I’ll bring it out.” 

“You do know we’re not guests?” Teppei yelled at her retreating back. 

“Where I come from, we serve coffee even to the people we’re about to kill. Does that make you feel better?” she yelled back from her room. 

“Does that mean I get to live?” Ginoza asked in a hoarse voice, louder than he should have been.

“Of course not,” she replied, voice muffled as she pulled her top off, “We serve milk to those marked for sacrifice at sunrise.” 

She heard Ginoza snort in response. Or maybe he’d just inhaled the milk instead of swallowing it. He certainly seemed capable of it. 

She changed out of her wet clothes, putting on slacks and a large t-shirt before pulling on her house robes. She unclipped her wig and took off her lenses. She grabbed a couple of wipes and ran them across her face, swiping off the make-up on her way back to the kitchen. She threw the wipes away and unhooked the coffee pot. 

“Milk and sugar, Aniki?”

“Probably.” 

“Probably?”

“Yes dammit!” A pause. “I mean, yes please.”

She prepared the coffee and brought out two steaming mugs. As she handed Teppei his, he stared up at her face, his jaw falling open, before he regained control of himself and closed it, taking the large mug from her. He very carefully did not meet her eyes. It was a common reaction to her natural appearance. She curled up on the armchair across from the two enforcers. 

“So this... is what you really... look like?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she replied with a smile. Yes, with patches of vitiligo around her eyes and neck, pale lips and round cheeks. 

“Your eyes...” Ginoza said suddenly, drawing her attention. He wasn’t staring at her. More like studying her? And looking straight in to her eyes. “Your eyes are…”

“Unique?” she offered. Of course, they were unique. One of a kind really. Transparent mostly, with just the slightest tinge of purple from all the exposed blood vessels underneath her colourless irises. 

“I was going to say  _ beautiful _ , beautiful eyes.” Kaze San pouted. Actually pouted. “But you’re right,  _ unique _ is probably more professional.”

“Nothing about this situation is professional,” Teppei muttered. 

Kaze San shrugged and continued to drink his milk. 

“You gotta learn how to improvise on mission, Ani.”

“Why do you call him that?” Kaze San asked with a frown. And a milk moustache. 

“Isn’t that the correct honorific for someone who looks after you?”

“I never…” Teppei started awkwardly.

“SEAUn was my first time out in the field. I was seventeen,” Arusuran said, remembering the fear and exhilaration. A time when she was young enough to believe nothing would ever hurt her. “Teppei Ani didn't know I was a soldier. But he was kind to me.” She looked at him and smiled, “And you got me out of trouble. So many times. I meant it then when I said I wanted to be like you.” 

Teppei took a sip of his coffee, to cover his embarrassment. “How-How long have you known we were following you?”

“Since she stepped in front of the first scanner to alert Shion. Probably.” Ginoza answered on her behalf. He looked at her through half-lidded eyes, “What are you trying to distract us from?”

“You’re the investigator,” Arsalan sipped her coffee too. It was smooth and bitter. “Figure it out.”

“Not an investigator,” Kaze San’s words had begun to slur, “Just a hound.” And then he howled. Or tried to, before losing his voice to a fit of coughing. He quickly pulled the mask back over his nose and mouth. 

“Forgive my partner,” Teppei said, glaring once again at Ginoza. “Clearly the cold has impaired his brain function.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Kaze San is very entertaining.” 

_ Because children always were.  _

“Aru Kun,” Teppei looked directly at her, forgetting Ginoza’s antics for the moment. He forced himself to hold her gaze. “What game are you playing this time?”

“I wasn’t then and I am not now.”

“So you know nothing about the last video?”

“No.”

“So that story you told?”

“It’s from an American show that was made before the Great Depression.” 

“So you weren’t targeting Sybil System?”

“What do you think?” 

“We don’t… but stories… make… think… ” Ginoza muttered, his head slumping forward. 

It was enough to break the flow of Teppei’s interrogation. He looked over at his partner and then back at Arsalan. 

“You’re asking a lot, you know. By asking us to trust you,” he said. 

“I’m not asking you to Ani. But it would be nice if you did.”

It seemed to satisfy him somehow. He nodded and broke eye-contact. He leaned back in his seat and was silent for a while. 

“Where have you been since...?” he asked awkwardly. 

“We wrapped up in SEAUn a few months after you guys left. Seems like a lifetime ago. After that I was in Russia, I think. South Africa. North America for the longest time. Those guys are messed up! Pakistan. Europe.”

“Saw the world, did you?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Never did learn how to fly. But I ate some amazing food though.”

Teppei laughed. 

“Was there really a girl you wanted to marry, in the village?” he asked, still chuckling. 

“Yes. And I did marry her. It was the only way her family would let me take her away.” 

“Oh, congratulations! Did you at least tell her you were female before your wedding?”

“Please, Cela never cared about what was in my pants. Besides I didn’t need to tell her, she figured it out herself.”

“She was smarter than me then!”

“She was.” Arsalan met Teppei’s eyes and put on her best smile. 

“What happened?” 

“She was killed in action on our last mission in Europe.” Arsalan looked away. 

“She was military?”

“She was recruited by the DMI. Same as me. Though to be honest, she was way better at the work than I was. Europe was… a nightmare. Warlords. Armed Militia. Mercenaries. And UK being an absolute dick... We got made. Captured by the son of bitch who controlled most of the Balkans. She ended up dead. I managed to get extracted. Afterwards… I was honorably discharged. Spent a few months sulking about the manor. And then my father pulled some strings to get me hired by the NUN. And now here I am, living it up under the benevolence of Sybil Obachan. Perks of being a King’s niece, I suppose.” 

“Sometimes I wish -” But Arsalan didn’t get to find out what that wish was, because at that moment, Ginoza fell sideways right in to Teppei Aniki’s lap. For a moment Teppei froze and Arsalan laughed loudly at his predicament. He reached out to shake the man to his senses, but Arsalan stopped him. 

“Oh, let him be Ani, he’s tired.” She put her cup aside and got up to retrieve the empty glass from Ginoza’s grip before it slipped. 

“Yes, but I am not a woman for him to use my lap as a pillow.” 

“Yes, but you are his friend?” She put the glass aside and pulled up the duvet from her armchair. “Ginoza San is having a tough time lately, isn’t he?” She spread the duvet across Ginoza. The apartment was warm enough, but it always helped to have something to cover yourself with. Especially when you were unwell. 

“How can you tell?” 

_ How can you  _ not _ tell? _

“He seems to have lost weight since the last time I saw him.”  _ Which was literally a week ago. _ She remained kneeling before him, watching his pale face for any sign of distress, listening to see if he was having trouble breathing. “The circles under his eyes are darker. And his shirt is misbuttoned. I may not know him, but Ginoza San doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who’d mess up something like that, no matter how much a cold impairs his brain function.” Assured that Ginoza was as comfortable as he could be given the circumstances, Arsalan returned to her seat and her coffee. And because she had pointed out something she was sure he already suspected but had probably done nothing about, Teppei Aniki let Ginoza Nobuchika sleep on his lap without any further objections. 

It was sometime later, after Teppei had left, assuring her that he could manage the nearly unconscious Ginoza and make it to a spot where they could be picked up by Shimotsuki, that Arsalan carried the empty cups and glass back in to the kitchen. She put them in the sink, running water over them. She squeezed soap on to them. She didn’t turn around when the figure stepped out of her bedroom and moved towards her on silent feet.

“You could have warned me,” he said. 

“Hey,” she said, pointing a soapy finger at him, “it’s my bloody house. I don’t need your permission to bring people over.”

“I was referring to when you stripped down in front of me.” 

“Eh, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He shook his head. She returned to washing the dishes. Another great feature of this penthouse was the concealed room within the master bedroom. Very convenient for hiding people who weren’t supposed to exist. Like the tall, muscular, straight-nosed, dark-haired man standing behind her. 

“So I take it, everything is in place?” she asked. 

“It will take them a month to bring enough people in.”

“That’s fine.” 

“The safe-houses are stocked. You did good distracting them. We wouldn’t have managed otherwise.”

“I never thought I’d enjoy being followed around so much. Did you encounter the old woman again?” 

“Nope, the fossil has been staying clear of us. But you need to be careful.”

“Why, you think she is after me?”

“Wouldn’t anyone be?”

“Oh, let her come.” Arsalan looked over her shoulder with a grin, “In fact, I dare her to fuck with me.”

She waited till she saw the smile in his eyes. 

“Your daddy will be happy to know seriously his daughter takes her tactical advisor.”

He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit one, pulling out an ashtray from a drawer. “How is Hiromu doing?” 

Done with her dishwashing, Arsalan turned around to face him, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“He’s fine,” she said, “Very well-informed. Told me some interesting things.” 

“He needs to let those things go.”

“And you’re the poster-child for letting things go, aren’t you?”

He rolled his eyes, taking a drag. “What did he say?”

“Theories about Sasayama I’ve already heard from you.” Arsalan watched him for a moment before adding, “He talked about Ginoza. Kubo apparently knows a nurse at the isolation facility in Adachi.” 

He looked away.

She kept looking at him. Not unsympathetically. 

“Lan…”

“Not yet?” she asked. 

“Not yet,” he confirmed. 

Well, she could understand that. She didn’t like it. But she understood. 

Arsalan straightened from her position by the sink. “Start chopping the carrots,” she ordered, pulling out an apron and throwing it at him, “We’re having curry.”

“Oi, I just came to make my report,” he said, catching the thrown apron in one hand. 

“And now you’re staying for dinner. Oh, but before that… Cela,” Arsalan called out, bringing the AI to life on her wrist, “Play 1980’s mix.”

“Arsalan.” He growled in warning. 

“Oh come on, you know you love it!” Arsalan said as she sidled forward, taking his cigarette and placing it in the ashtray. She placed her hands on his hips. 

“Arsalan, no!”

“Shinya, yes!”

And as peppy beats of music from the past began to thrum through the apartment, Arsalan Hime Sama got a highly unamused Kougami Shinya to start swaying in sync with her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a couple of things about timelines:  
> 1\. I know cannon-wise, Sugo is like six years younger than Gino (the same age as Yayoi and Kagari, what?). But that was seriously messing with the fic's timeline. So Sugo here is like a year older than Arsalan. The year is 2115. Gino is 30, Sugo is about 27. Arsalan is 26. Shinya has been gone for 2 years. Just roll with it.  
> 2\. From this point onward, I guess I have resolved to ignore the movie and the SS trilogy (except Sugo's tragedy, that definitely happened, he was just older). I want to work towards a resolution that lets a lot of the things we see in Season 3 happen. Fingers crossed. 
> 
> Hope this helps!
> 
> Arsalan's eye-colour is a real thing. Usually observed as a result of albinism. However, she is not albino, she has vitiligo. You can read up about the skin condition here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vitiligo
> 
> Also, the show that Arsalan references is The Good Place (Kudos if you guessed already): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Good_Place
> 
> Also, this is one of my favourite chapters so far. I really hope you like it!


	12. Tegami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He set the treadmill to low resistance, the doctor had asked him to take it easy, and began jogging. He wanted to be able to jog outside. He used to love running with Dime when they were younger. The way Dime used to try and snap up the floating sakura petals, only to be surprised every time when the holos dissipated. 
> 
> He was distracted from the happy memory by the sound of someone coughing behind him. He immediately slowed the treadmill and let himself roll-off. And turned around to face her.

A few things had happened while he was laid out with the flu. 

  1. Sugo Teppei had reported that they had followed Arusuran to an apartment complex near the Harajuku shopping district and that they had been able to discover that she lived in the penthouse and nothing more.



  1. The NUN HRC Task Force - Tokyo Division had sent in a written complaint to the Ministry of Welfare that the PSBCID was actively harassing Arusuran Taichou and interfering with her work. 



  1. Shimotsuki Mika Kanshikan had written a complaint back to the HRC alleging that their Taichou was using HRC resources and the services provided by the Japanese Government to vacation in Tokyo instead of investigating human rights violations as she claimed. She had included a 20-page report on Arusuran with details of her shopping, eating out, appearing in interviews and drinking coffee at almost every cafe in the city. The ever-diligent Kanshikan had also marked this mail to the newly minted Ministry of Foreign Affairs.



  1. As a consequence of 1, 2 and 3, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs had demanded a written report on the progress of the investigation and had asked Arusuran Taichou/Hime Sama to appear before a jury of government officials and explain the HRC’s plan or exit Japan post haste. 



Shimotsuki was satisfied. Kasei was pissed. Tsunemori was worried. About the fact that…

  1. Public opinion was quickly turning against the PSB, who in their eyes, was purposely attacking their beloved, kind-hearted, white-souled Hime Sama from a foreign land.



When he finally returned to work after three days of tossing, turning and burning with fever Ginoza Nobuchika barely had the time to catch up with all of this, before Sugo Teppei pulled him aside to

  1. Check how he was doing and see if he needed mental care 



Response:  _ He was fine. Everything was perfect. Leave him alone now.  _

  1. Ensure that he understood, _really understood_ , what Sugo had reported about that evening and double ensure that he didn’t contradict anything, not even accidentally



Response:  _ That evening was a haze. He didn’t remember much. So he probably wouldn’t be able to contradict the report if he tried. So could Sugo San please leave him alone now? _

  1. Berate him for his spectacularly unprofessional behaviour and demand that he send a written apology to Aru Kun because she was literally forced to watch Ginoza drool on to Sugo’s pants



Response:  _ LEAVE HIM - What? _

So Ginoza Nobuchika, Hound 1, Current Division 1 Enforcer, Former Division 1 Investigator, sat down at his desk and hand-wrote a formal apology to Arusuran Hime Sama, Taichou of the NUN HRC Task Force. And in an ironic twist of fate, the letter was sent to the same address that Shimotsuki’s complaint had gone to. A location ten minutes away from Nona Towers in the Harajuku business district. 

He didn’t expect a response. 

Which was a good thing. Because none came. 

At this point in his life, he really should learn to expect nothing. Because nothing was as unexpected as what happened next. 

It had been an uneventful day, with rain, reporting backlogs and Shimotsuki’s repeated complaints about the crowds outside the PSB. Ginoza chose to avoid pointing out that the crowds were there because of Shimotsuki’s complaint, protesting the anti-Hime Sama stance of the CID. He did get a bunch of commiserating smiles from Tsunemori. But they confused him now where a few months ago they would have made him glad. So he pretended not to see them anymore and instead escaped to the gym. 

He set the treadmill to low resistance, the doctor had asked him to take it easy, and began jogging. He wanted to be able to jog outside. He used to love running with Dime when they were younger. The way Dime used to try and snap up the floating sakura petals, only to be surprised every time when the holos dissipated. 

He was distracted from the happy memory by the sound of someone coughing behind him. He immediately slowed the treadmill and let himself roll-off. And turned around to face her. 

“I see Kaze San has left the building,” Arusuran said in greeting. 

She was dressed formally, in a grey knee-length dress, cinched with a pink belt and a matching pink jacket. She had her natural hair, though the pink highlights were new. And her eyes were a warm brown, her most favoured eye-colour. 

“Well, unfortunately, Kaze San had overstayed his welcome.”

There was no trace of the vitiligo patches. Of all the things that happened that evening, Ginoza remembered seeing Arusuran’s natural skin, and her fascinating transparent eyes, most distinctively. He had seen those eyes and that skin in his fever-dreams as well. Repeatedly. 

“Too bad. He was… ummm… what’s the word?”

“Unique?” 

“Cute,” she said with a smile, “Kaze San was cute.” 

Ginoza grabbed a towel from the railing and wiped his face. Though he had barely worked up a sweat. Arusuran started to walk a circuit around the space. 

“This is a lovely gym. I wish my building had a place like this.” 

She looked… awkward. Her hands in the pockets of her dress and her steps hesitant. 

“You could always come here,” he said, rubbing the back of his head, feeling tense, for reasons he couldn’t comprehend, “your office is just ten minutes away, isn’t it?”

“Yes, of course. Just another expression of the burgeoning goodwill between the HRC and PSB.” 

There was a pressure in his chest that was making him breathless. He recognized it from the time he Tsunemori had visited him in rehab. It used to happen every time he got close to Tsunemori, when he had gotten back. He sat down on one of the benches. Still watching her walk through the gym. He wanted the feeling to go away. But he also kind of didn’t? 

Arusuran completed her round before turning back to him. Again, there was this uncertainty on her face. The feeling in his chest dimmed. Instead, he felt like he needed to reassure her somehow. But what about? 

“I… err… got your letter,” she said, twirling one foot in a move completely uncharacteristic of what he knew of her personality. 

“Okay.” 

“I didn’t read it.”

“Oh.”

“I mean… I can’t… I couldn’t read it. I tried to but I couldn’t,” She reached towards him, but stopped herself. “It was too difficult,” she said, her face falling. 

Ginoza had already stood up and moved towards her before he realized what he was doing. He stopped. 

“Arusuran San, I don’t understand. What was too difficult?” he forced his voice to stay calm even as the need to reassure her threatened to overwhelm him. 

“I can’t read,” she said, not looking at him. 

“You can’t read Japanese?” Now that he thought about it, he just assumed she could read it since she spoke it well enough. Also, he wasn’t exactly used to thinking of people speaking or reading other languages, was he? 

“No,” she looked up at him, desperate and a little angry? “I can’t read. Not in Japanese, not in Arabic, not in English or any of the other languages I speak. I can't read.” She turned away from him. And again that feeling in his chest dragged him two steps towards her before he could stop himself. This was difficult for her, and he needed to understand why.

“Arusuran San?” he said gently, daring to step closer still. 

“It’s not like I don’t want to,” she said, sadder now, “But words, letters, they don't make sense to me. They get jumbled up when I try.” She turned back round. For a second, she looked relieved, like she was glad he came closer. “It’s a neurological condition. Genetic, probably. Just like my twisted spine and panda skin and demon eyes.” She looked and sounded petulant. Like a child. “So I am sorry, but I can’t read your letter.” She pulled it out of her pocket and held the envelope out to him. 

He looked at it and then at the girl holding it out to him. So that’s what was bothering Hime Chan. 

He lifted his right hand and tapped Arusuran on her head. She looked up in surprise. 

“If you can’t read it, I’ll read it to you.” 

He took the letter from her and crumpled it. Her mouth opened in shock. 

“Hey! That was mine.” 

“It was just a boring apology for being a bad house-guest.” 

“Still mine, give it back!”

“You came here to return it!” he said incredulously. 

“I said I couldn't read it. Not that I didn’t want it!” She tackled his hand with both of hers. And in the shock of her grabbing his hand, he allowed her to snatch the letter back. She took it to the bench and kneeled down, smoothing the envelope against the flat surface while grumbling about clumsy men and their careless handling of things. 

He walked up and sat at the bench. She made a childish show of protecting the letter from his evil, crumpling hands. 

“That’s not the only thing, is it?” he asked. Her response was to look away with a sniff.  _ Such a baby. _ “If you can’t read, I’m guessing  _ writing _ a report for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs must be pretty tough, huh?” 

“Oh look everyone,” she frowned at him, “it’s the Return of Sherlock Holmes!”

“Wha-who?” 

“Never mind,” this time a roll of her eyes. “The people in my office are all civilians and the Ministry refuses to give them clearance due to  _ the sensitive nature of the data involved _ . NUN knows, but there is no one they can send at the moment to help me out. And my AI isn’t able to translate to the level of Japanese needed.” 

“Is a Level 2 clearance enough?” 

“Yeah, but I don't know anyone with a Level 2 clearance.”

“You know me.”

“Ginoza San?”

“Given my history at the Bureau and the cases I’ve worked, I do have a Level 2 clearance.” 

“Ginoza San is offering to help me?”

“I may not be as cute as Kaze San, but I am definitely more useful. You clear it with the Ministry and I’ll check with Tsunemori Kanshikan.”

Arusuran stared at him with big, wide eyes, like he had just given her a pony. Well, she was Hime Sama, she probably already had ponies. Many more than he could ever afford. But the feeling in his chest blew out to fill him, making his fingertips tingle. So maybe she had given him a pony? 

_ What? _

“Are you alright, Ginoza San?” There was that searching look again. 

“Yes,” he stood up and walked away from her, “I was-I was just wondering, err... would I need to come to the HRC offices?”

“Or I could come here, whatever works for you.”

“But where is all your paperwork?”

“What paperwork?”

_ … Right...  _


	13. Shigoto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arusuran shushed Tsunemori for the interruption. Ginoza threw a stress-ball at Arusuran for shushing his superior. Tsunemori reprimanded Ginoza for throwing a ball at an international envoy. Shimotsuki yelled at all of them for behaving like children.

The next morning, a virtually vibrating Arusuran met him outside the Division 1 office. She had the HRC’s approval. She had the ministry’s approval. She even had PSB approval to use a conference room at Nona Tower for them to work out of. 

Convincing Tsunemori was the easy part. After all, this meant Division 1 would get to know everything the criminally asymptomatic foreigner had been up to since she got here. Well, Ginoza would. But it meant the same thing. 

There was just one problem though. 

There was no paperwork. Zero. Nothing. Not a single piece. 

Instead, there were stories. Conversations. Anecdotes (which he had repeatedly been taught were the worst form of data). Entire interviews reproduced verbatim from memory. Images, videos, voice notes, ambient recordings and a notebook full of strange symbols and doodles only Arusuran knew how to decipher. 

Of course, this was a Ginoza problem. Not a Hime Sama one. 

Arusuran shrugged when he brought this up. Like she didn’t really understand his concern. They had three months worth of data. All stored inside Arusuran’s head. That Ginoza now had to condense in to a written report in the next three days. 

_ Nothing to be concerned about here.  _

Ginoza had crammed before. He had stayed up nights to study for exams. He had worked relentlessly to solve cases. He had pushed through his own fears about his hue to support his team. 

But this level of anxiety probably deserved a medical classification of its own. 

_ Why had he ever been stupid enough to offer his help? Why did he think he was even  _ capable _ of helping this woman man sitting cross-legged on the table in front of him?  _

“Ginoza San, we can do this. I trust you.” 

_ Right. That’s why.  _

This woman. This gaikokujin. This Hime Sama. 

She never sat in a chair. Not once. Choosing instead to sit cross-legged on the table, or lounge on the ground or simply pace around him. She used military timing on all her references and could remember ridiculously insignificant details from encounters she had months ago. She had spoken to more people who had experienced or survived crime or knew someone who did in the past three months than he remembered speaking to in his first three years as an investigator. 

Survivors of sexual crimes. Check. 

Children of latent criminals. Check.

Small business owners who had lost the most during the helmet riots. Check.

Hue-cleansing drug addicts. Check. 

Hue-cleaning drug dealers. Check. 

Parents of latent criminals. Check. 

Sex-workers. Check. 

Their madams and pimps. Check. 

Gang members from Jet. Check.

Refugee railroad operators. Check. 

Politicians the CID had long suspected of supporting criminal activity but could do nothing about since their hues remained clear. Check. 

It was like she was everywhere the CID could not go. 

Though she refused to share real names, and called them by code-names or named them after their most prominent physical feature (Ginoza wrote Left Breast Mole six times before resorting to using initials), she remembered exactly what they looked like, what they wore, what time of day it was and the exact intonation and phrasing of their speech. Which she reproduced word for word. Ginoza had no way of verifying, but it was either that she had the memory of a supercomputer or the imagination of a crazy person. Or both. 

Oh, and she blatantly declared that she was in charge of his comfort, safety and sanity while they worked together. 

_ Both. Definitely both.  _

After the first few times, he just stopped objecting when she got him coffee. Or water. Or food. Or chocolates. 

So many chocolates. 

She never seemed to need sleep or even get tired. And when he tried and failed, to match up to that, she introduced him to something called the Pomodoro Technique and got him on a regimen of short power naps instead of long hours of rest. They ran back and forth through the corridors at break-neck speed. When they hit a block. In the middle of the night. And passed a stress-ball back and forth when they had to brainstorm. She explained things in ways he had never seen. 

But she always stopped to consider his thoughts. And each time a question from him got her to reevaluate her story, Ginoza felt his heart swell. Just a little bit. 

She argued with him. And after a while, he began to argue back. One time things got so heated that Tsunemori came in to see what was wrong. The investigator watched them debating passionately for a few minutes before requesting them to keep it down. Arusuran shushed Tsunemori for the interruption. Ginoza threw a stress-ball at Arusuran for shushing his superior. Tsunemori reprimanded Ginoza for throwing a ball at an international envoy. Shimotsuki yelled at all of them for behaving like children. 

The first time Arusuran took his hand to massage it, his whole body froze and his brain crashed. She realized what she had done when his body went stiff and immediately let go, apologizing profusely. The second time, he was too tired to register her asking for his hand and only realized what he had agreed to when he found his body relaxing without his permission. By then it would have been stupid to pull his hand back. Besides, it felt good. So good. 

He lost track of day and night. Which was fine because he had programmed drones to take over Dime’s management. And all that time, he got to spend with Arusuran. And all the weirdness that went with it.

“Genie… Genie San?”

“Hmmm?”

“What did I just say?”

“Genie. Genie San,” he said tonelessly, without looking at her. 

“Not  _ /g/ _ ,” she explained, “/ʤ/.” 

“Okay.”

“You don’t know who  _ the Genie _ is, do you?”

“No, I thought you just enjoyed mispronouncing my name,” he said, re-reading the last paragraph he had been typing. 

“You don’t know what Djinn are?”

“No Arusuran San, I have no idea what...  _ Jinnu…  _ are. But I do know that you need to get this report in by tomorrow morning and we still have the whole month of August to look through.”

“How would you like it if I said I knew nothing about… dragons?”

“I would absolutely not care.”

“Genie?”

“Hmmm…”

“Look at me!”

“Arusuran San, I am trying to-”

“Ginoza San,” she snapped, “look at me!” 

Just her saying his name like that crushed him in a way that he hadn’t experienced recently. But when he turned to her, a little shocked, her eyes and smile were soft. In her hands was a bowl of udon, something she had obviously been holding out for him for some time now. Ginoza immediately felt guilty. 

“You’ve been at this for six hours now,” she said gently, “Stop for a little bit and eat. Please?”

Ginoza reached out and took the bowl from her, feeling stupid and painfully hungry, even though he couldn’t bring himself to look at the food. 

“And as entertainment for your fine dining experience, the great Arsalan, of House Jamali, Daughter of Al-Sham, will regale you with a most spectacular tale from the Arabian Nights!” 

And so he ate as she told him about a streetrat from a place called Agrabah who finds a magical lamp, defeats an evil wizard and marries a princess with a pet tiger. 

“So, now do you understand why I call you Genie?”

“Not really, no.” He had finished his meal around the point Jaffar tricked Alladin’s lamp away from the boy, but had continued to sit cross-legged on the floor and listen to the story, because he wanted to know how it ended, while simultaneously wishing that it did not, because that meant he would have to stop listening to and watching her.

Arusuran made an exasperated noise.

“Because Genie San is magic and makes my wishes come true!” 

_ Remember how to breathe. Remember this is not for you.  _

“You wasted all this time just to tell me that?”

“Hey, I invested a lot of energy coming up with that!” 

“Good for you! Now let me get back to my work please.” 

_ Let me get back to my work. Please. Before my throat closes up and I can't find a way to look at you any more.  _

He got up, put the bowl aside and sat back at the computer. He forced his eyes to read the words on the screen. He forced himself to concentrate on the work. He forced himself to ignore the way his heart was racing. 

_ I’m not the one who makes your wishes come true.  _

They worked through the night and mailed the report in forty-five minutes before the deadline. 

Ginoza slept for the next ten hours and would have continued to sleep had Dime not ruined it by licking his face and demanding sustenance. 

For the next week, he didn’t see or hear from Arusuran. But his mind was still so full of her that he didn’t really notice the dates change. 

Then one morning he woke up to find a large, heavy brown-paper package outside his door, left there by the delivery drone. In it was a handsome, leather-bound Japanese edition of the Arabian Nights. Inside, marking the page where the story of Alladin and Magic Lamp began, was a sheet of paper. On it, was a rough sketch of him, sitting at a desk, working on the report. 

He stared at the page till his eyes began to water. 

The day after, a four-foot-tall bouquet of orchids arrived at Division 1. For him. With a scroll from the New United Nations thanking him for his services and hoping that the friendship between the HRC and PSB would continue to flourish. The orchids made Shimotsuki sneeze so they were relocated to his room where they were promptly consumed by Dime, the ever-faithful Dog, who had always had a thing for flowers. 

The day after that he received an order from the Governor of Tokyo, endorsed by the Chief of the PSB, to take up a temporary position as Japanese Liaison Officer with the HRC Tokyo Division with immediate effect. He would work at the HRC office for three days a week, reporting directly to Arusuran Taichou. For the remainder he would still be an Enforcer with Division 1. 

And the day before his first day at the HRC office, he was called to Kasei’s office. There it was explained, in no uncertain terms, that he was still a hound on a leash, the slightest misbehaviour could lead to him being locked up or even enforced. Oh, and he was to  _ kindly _ report each and every detail he could uncover about Hime Sama and her team, directly to Kasei. 

He didn’t care. 

Ginoza Nobuchika was going to go work for Hime Sama. 

Everyone else could  _ kindly _ go fuck themselves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fairytales and works of fantasy are banned by Sybil. 
> 
> Also, since Arsalan cant read, the version of Alladin she recounts is the Disney animated one. My HC for her (do you have HC for OCs? I don't know) is that she watched a lot of children's movies during the endless days of her being bed-ridden as a child (more on that in future chapters) 
> 
> Please leave comments if you read this! It really helps!


	14. Kaiwa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one can love you the way you want them to. They can only love you the way they know how.

“...and what did you expect me to do?”

“I expected you to love me!”

“Like you loved me? Don’t make me laugh… No one can love you the way you want them to. They can only love you the way they know how. Accept that and it will be easier for both of us.”

“Would things have turned out differently if I had agreed to leave? To walk away from the DMI and settle somewhere far away, just the two of us?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I shouldn’t have married the first pretty girl to go down on me.”

“You always were too loyal for your own good, Lan.”

“Loyalty has nothing to do with it. I don’t like leaving people behind.”

“Because your mother left you?”

“The woman who gave birth to me left me.  _ My mother _ , on the other hand, was always there for me. _ Is  _ still there for me. It’s something you never understood about me. You always wanted me to feel like an abandoned child. I wasn’t abandoned. I was loved. That’s why I couldn’t stand to abandon someone I loved. That’s why I couldn’t abandon you.”

“The Balkans would have turned out very differently if you could have just walked away from me.”

“Like I said, I don’t regret it.”

“Sure you’re not lying about that?”

“I never lie.” 

“Not even to yourself?”

“What do you think?”

“That I should have believed you.”

“Too late for that now.” 

Arsalan stared at the holo projected by her mecha bracelet. 

Cela. Sharp nose, eyes full of dark laughter, caramel skin solid and warm. At least until you tried to touch it. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” Cassie said from the other end of the room, where her holo sat in the other armchair. The therapist herself was back at home in Earsiin.

“Cela, exit Therapy Mode.” And with that command, the woman disappeared. 

They had managed nearly half an hour today. They tried to do this at least once a month. It had been getting easier.

“Do you want to talk about -”

“No.”

“Arsalan, you have to stop fixating on Cela as a way of avoiding dealing with everything else.”

“I’ve stopped denying it. I know it happened. I know it was horrible. It’s just that - ” 

“Not yet?”

“Not yet.” 

“Okay, then what do you want to talk about? Do you want to tell me about Japan? Made any new friends?”

“Actually, I was hoping I could skip out on the rest of our session. I need to get to work early.”

“Something important?”

“Not exactly... Someone new is joining today. I just want to make sure nothing goes wrong on his first day.”

“Who is he?”

“Ginoza Nobuchika.”

“Is that his name? Bless him!”

“Hey! It’s a perfectly lovely name!”

“I’m sure it is.” Cassie smiled, “I’ll see you next week, same time?”

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We need this for context. So bear with me here. 
> 
> Also, comment please! Thank you!


	15. Shokai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I… can’t afford to lose another person to an obsession.”  
> “What?”  
> “I looked through the search history of all your devices. I know you’ve been... watching her.”

4:00 am

4:03 am

4:07 am

4:11 am

Fifteen minutes of churning his bedsheets in to mush and Ginoza Nobuchika decided to just accept the fact that he wasn’t falling back to sleep. 

He cleaned his bedroom. He fed his dog. He got some breakfast. 

4:56 am

He cleaned his living room. He read his copy of the Arabian Nights. 

5:37 am 

He read through the HRC report. Again. By this point, he had it nearly memorized. 

6:59 am 

He showered. He got dressed. He picked up his messenger bag. He doubled-checked that he had everything he needed. 

At 7:45 am, a very sleepy Shimotsuki found him pacing the parking lot. She drove him to the Harajuku Business district, frowning the entire time. 

At 7:57 am, their car pulled in to the roundabout for Tower 7. 

Where Arusuran was waiting. 

She wore a loose shirt with the likeness of that famous lady from that famous painting on it. And a pair of jeans. Her hair was gathered in a messy knot. Her eyes were brown. 

Her searching gaze landed on him. This time she seemed to find whatever it was she was looking for almost immediately. 

“Ginoza San is doing well?” she said with a smile. 

“Like a little boy on his first day of school,” Shimotsuki commented from behind him. 

“Wouldn’t know, never went to school,” Arusuran told her offhandedly. 

Shimotsuki held out a tablet and stylus for her to sign, confirming transfer of his custody. Her signature was a clean sketch of a lion’s face. 

“Does everything about you have to be weird?”

“Yes.”

“You know all the rules?” 

“Hide all sharp objects and lock the liquor cabinet?”

“Don’t cause us trouble  _ Hime Sama _ . Any problem with an Enforcer in a civilian area is the responsibility of the PSB. And we can’t afford any accidents.”

“There will be no accidents. Tsunemori Kanshikan explained the restrictions to me. We’ll be fine.” 

“And if you’re not?”

“You are welcome to write another complaint.” 

She began leading him inside.

“Don’t get cocky!”

“Stop worrying Kanshikan, I’ll keep Genie out of trouble,” she yelled over her shoulder. 

He didn’t hear Shimotsuki’s reply, but Arusuran calling him that name did remind him of Tsunemori’s words from last night.

_ “She calls you Genie?” _

_ “It’s nothing special…” _

_ “Ginoza San, can I count on you? Can I count on you to do the right thing?” _

_ “I don’t understand what you mean.” _

_ “Do you truly believe that someone can gain the position she has... without knowing how to read and write?” _

Yes _ , he wanted to say. But didn’t.  _

_ “You’ve been put in this role for a reason. Promise me you won't forget what she is.” _

_ Ginoza stayed silent again. But he wanted to ask. _

When did you stop trusting me? 

_ “I… can’t afford to lose another person to an obsession.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “I looked through the search history of all your devices. I know you’ve been... watching her.” _

_ This time he stayed silent because he had nothing to say.  _

_ “Kasei knows. She told me as much. She’ll be watching... Please don’t give them reason to hurt you.”  _

_ “Don’t worry Kanshikan, you can count on me.” _

“Genie? What’s wrong?” 

Ginoza realized he had stopped moving. 

“Arusuran San, can I request you to stop calling me that?” 

He saw her smile falter. His first day had not yet begun and already he felt like it had been ruined.

“Of course, Ginoza San. I apologize if I caused offence. It was not my intention.” Her eyes began to search again, but he turned his gaze to the floor, giving nothing away. She finally gave up the effort.

“Shall we?” The smile on her face wasn’t as bright as before. But it would have to do. 

_ He wouldn’t forget who she was. He wouldn’t forget what he was. He wouldn’t forget.  _

When the four-member team had introduced themselves. When he had been given a grand tour of the playpen-like workspace that was so much a reflection of Arusuran’s personality. When he found out what his responsibilities were. When he finally came back to the corner he was allowed to assign to himself. He found a small welcome gift left there for him. He recognized it from the illustration in the Arabian Nights. 

A magic lamp. He brushed his thumb across its dark silver surface. Making a wish. That he could forget. Just for a little while. Forget who he was. Forget who she was. 

Forget that, in _this_ world, the criminal and the princess, would never go on a magic carpet ride. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gino is sad. Please comment so that we can give him hugs!


	16. Ofisu  アフィス

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The HRC office which occupied the entire forty-second floor of Tower 7 was divided in to two parts. One was essentially Arsalan’s dressing room - with all her Hime Sama paraphernalia - costumes, shoes and jewellery. The other half was an open-plan office space, with five distinct work-spaces, a kitchen and dining area, a server room, Arsalan’s personal office (which was a paper and bamboo shed - very Japanese, very aesthetic) and a large central open work-and-play space. 
> 
> Where four women were converging on one man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timelines are hard. This chapter takes place a month after Ginoza starts working with the HRC. 
> 
> Also, OCs alert! 
> 
> Also, trigger warning for racism. It's mild to the best of my knowledge, but definitely there.

“... what’s not ideal is that we have twenty untrained agents out there in the field. My concern is that-”

The sound of someone falling and getting the wind knocked out of them distracted Arsalan. She stopped speaking. 

“Arsalan? Have we lost reception on this damn thing again?”

“No, Your Excellency, we are still connected. As I was saying, my concern is that not just that we have picked up a bunch of civil servants to run reconnaissance, but more importantly these  _ agents _ can’t speak Japanese.”

“But they were coached in the language, intensively. Were they not?”

“Yes, Your Excellency, they were. But three months with a Japanese tutor does nothing to make anyone sound like a native. And you have no idea how xeno-”

This time it was a woman’s scream, followed by the unmistakable sound of a dozen ballpoint pens clattering to the floor. 

“Arsalan, I understand your concern, but you know the agreement put in place. We can only send in people with clear Psycho Passes. And none of our  _ trained  _ agents do.” 

“Your Excellency, I am well-aware of the situation with our agents and their souls. Which is why we need this partnership with the PSB.” 

“The PSB is the subject of our investigation. And you want us to partner with them on this mission. How fair do you think that investigation will be?”

“They are good people. Honest and hard-working.”

“That would describe most Japanese people, as I am given to understand.” 

“Yes, but they are also-”

What was that sound? Sounded like… cloth ripping apart? And why was Marie squealing now?

“Arsalan?”

“Yes, Your Excellency, I am here…”

“I thought this satellite uplink was supposed to work. I keep losing you.”

“Yes, bad satellite uplink, bad!” 

“Well, I can’t approve an official partnership with the PSB. The Governor has already saddled you with that latent criminal-”

“His name is Ginoza. Nobuchika Ginoza. Your Excellency.” 

“These Japanese people and their names never cease to amaze me. Regardless, the PSB is directly controlled by Sybil System. You still haven’t figured out who, or what, that is. Or who controls it. Till we have a clearer-”

The sound of something striking something. Repeatedly. 

“Your Excellency, I apologize, but I’m going to need to call you back. There… seems… to be an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency?” 

“A fire!”

“In the HRC Office?”

“Yes, I must get everyone to safety. Goodbye Your Excellency!”

Arsalan cut the satellite uplink that connected her to the Secretary-General’s office in Djibouti. And marched outside. 

The HRC office which occupied the entire forty-second floor of Tower 7 was divided in to two parts. One was essentially Arsalan’s dressing room - with all her Hime Sama paraphernalia - costumes, shoes and jewellery. The other half was an open-plan office space, with five distinct work-spaces, a kitchen and dining area, a server room, Arsalan’s personal office (which was a paper and bamboo shed - very Japanese, very aesthetic) and a large central open work-and-play space. Where four women were converging on one man. 

Saito Marie 

33, HRC Accountant 

Former financial analyst for the Ministry of Economy 

Hue clouded after her house was burned down during the Helmet riots. Had to work through months of therapy to get back on her feet. But by then the Ministry wouldn’t take her back. 

She came in close, pulled her right shoulder way back and punched, throwing her body in to it. The man side-stepped. And Marie landed on her face. 

“Marie San, you have to focus on your balance. And a lighter, quicker punch aimed at the face. Your objective is to stun and run, not knock your assailant out. Natsumi San, are you going next?”

Ito Natsumi 

29, HRC Data Scientist… because Arsalan loved a good pie chart

Recently separated from an abusive husband

Thirty, had a three-year-old son - Takeya Chan, who was neurologically atypical and non-verbal 

Natsumi stepped in close too. And went with a knee to the groin. Classic. Except the man intercepted it and used Natsumi’s momentum to upend her.

“Natsumi San, most men will defend the groin first… Unless you can be much faster, that move will not work. Instead, you could drive my shoulders down while you kick upward. That could shatter my nose. But you have to practice a lot more for that to work.”

The next woman stepped up. With both hands on her hips. 

Hirode Kisa

33, Public Relations

Former publicist for a Sybil-approved girl group

Was once punched unconscious by an irate fan 

“So,” Kisa faced-off, sticking her chin out, “ you think you can scare me?” 

_ Ah, trying to get in to the opponent’s head. _

“Addressing your assailant can be a good strategy,” he said, “but try talking  _ to _ them, not challenging them. Ask them a reasonable question.” 

“Will you take off your shirt if I manage to hit you?”

“No, I will not.”

“Fine, take the fun out of everything!” 

Kisa yelled and launched herself at him. Right kick. Left kick. Right jab. Left jab. Roundhouse. 

All of which the man evaded. Easily. 

“That was good. Very good. You’re getting much faster.” 

Kisa stepped away with a flirtatious smile and a wink. 

“Come on Mai Kun,” he said, “it’s your turn now.”

Tanaka Mai

Arsalan’s Personal Assistant 

Superbly skilled at converting remarks like “You can tell the Governor’s son to suck my -” “Arusuran San!” in to emails that read, “Thank you for your generous offer. However, due to Hime Sama’s busy schedule, the HRC will have to humbly decline.”

Kidnapped and raped at age 18. Now 22, she still relied heavily on medication and rehab centres to stay sane. 

Mai stood a few feet away. Biting her lower lip. 

“You can do this, just like we practised.”

Mai took a hesitant step forward. The girls cheered her on. She took a fighting stance. Held out her hands before her. Took a quick step forward. Feinted with her left leg. Then jump kicked with her right. Instep connecting straight with his jaw. 

The man’s head snapped back. And down he went on to the mat. 

“Ginoza San!” Mai clamped her hands to her mouth. 

Ginoza Nobuchika 

Shikkokan

Japanese Liaison Officer 

Handled Arsalan’s reporting and scribing needs

Managed field requirements for twenty untrained agents. Because they were a bunch of idiots. And he seemed good at handling idiots. Also, Arsalan was lazy. 

But most importantly, only man on the HRC Admin Team

Ginoza sat up, shaking off the hit. 

“Great work Mai Kun. That was a good hit.” 

“I-I didn’t hurt you?”

“That was the point of the exercise,” Ginoza said with a smile, “Please don’t worry, everything is fine.” He turned to the other women. “I think that’s enough for today. Please continue practising offence techniques for frontal assault. Maybe Mai Kun can give you some tips.” 

A month ago, Arsalan had been pulling her hair out trying to convince these same women to give Ginoza Nobuchika a chance. It was literal hell arguing back and forth. 

Kisa, Natsumi, Marie, Mai had all suffered at the hands of men. Ginoza was a man. And everyone in this country hated latent criminals. Including latent criminals. Surprisingly, Mai had taken the leap and asked the others to trust Arsalan’s judgement. Maybe because Mai knew about the Balkans. But the minute Ginoza walked in to the office, Mai’s fears had taken hold of her. Arsalan had to have several private conversations with her. And the others. But in the end, Ginoza had won everyone over. By simply being himself. And now a few weeks in, they had recruited him to teach them self-defence. Which he did diligently every evening. In a freaking business suit. Without breaking a sweat. 

If you really wanted to make Ginoza Nobuchika sweat, you just had to ask the man highly embarrassing personal questions. Which the girls did. Regularly. At the most inopportune moments. It was like an office sport. 

The women gathered together to acknowledge the end of the class. But he turned away. He always did. Ever since the first time they had bowed and called him Sensei. 

But this time he turned and froze. Looking straight at her. Like he didn’t expect her to be watching. 

_ And was that guilt in his eyes? Why? _

“Ginoza San,” she said with a smile and her most encouraging boss voice, “Carry on with your good work.” 

Ginoza nodded. And walked past her to the balcony. It was where he usually went when he was flustered. And Ginoza invariably got flustered just before shift-end every Wednesday. Not that anyone but her noticed the pattern. 

She gave him ten minutes. 

Then followed him out. With a frozen ouchy-pouchy in her hand. 

Theirs was the last floor before the roof. With a massive balcony. Arsalan had had it done up as a Zen Garden, with stone benches, a pebble walkway, sand circles and a miniature waterfall, with a bridge leading over it to a small pagoda. There were all kinds of native plants, anything that could grow on a terrace, growing lush and seemingly wild. 

It was already getting dark. There was a brisk breeze blowing, making the bamboo creak and flutter. The air had a hint of rain. He stood at the far end. Hands on the railing. Looking out over the city. 

“Hey,” she said to announce her presence. 

“Arusuran San,” he turned to acknowledge it. 

She offered him the ice-pack. “Thought you might need this.” 

He looked at it in surprise. Like it was not something he had even considered needing. 

“Thank you,” he said, awkwardly taking it from her hands. 

He placed it against his jaw. Where a lovely bruise had begun to bloom. 

“Ginoza San, is there something on your mind?” she asked after a tentative silence. 

“Not really. Just work.” 

“You seem troubled. You know you can talk to me about it.”

“It is kind of you to offer, but Arusuran San doesn’t need to concern herself with me.”

“Why not? I thought we were friends.”

“I’m sure Arusuran San has better people to befriend than latent criminals. Excuse me.”

He brushed past her. 

“Ginoza San?” He stopped, back to her. “I’ve met a lot of bad people in my life… Women who cut off the tongues of children so that they wouldn’t ask for food. Mercenaries who poisoned the water supply of an entire town because they refused to pay them protection money. This one man who bashed in the heads of eight hundred villagers with a rock, because it seemed like fun… I may not understand what a latent criminal is… or why Sybil System marked you as one… but I know you are not a bad person… And that’s enough for me to want to be your friend…” She walked up to stand level with him. “I just hope someday that’s enough for you to want to be mine.” 

She walked back in and made straight for her bamboo and paper shed. Ginoza did not return for at least another half an hour. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates got delayed because stuff needed to be rewritten. Discovery writing can be a pain that way. But quicker updates coming up! 
> 
> Do leave a comment to let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	17. Naishin 内申  Confidential Report / Innermost Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginoza announced himself at the door and was let in. Kasei Joshu, Chief of the PSB, sat at her desk. Waiting for him. Already studying the report he had sent in to her not ten minutes ago. 
> 
> “What have you got for us today Shikkokan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Description of riots, communal violence, and violence against transpeople

Ginoza tried not to walk too fast. He hated being in this part of Nona Tower. Hated it when he was an inspector. Hated it more now that he was not. Nothing good ever came of walking in to that woman’s office. 

And it didn’t help that he was still thinking about what Arusuran had told him earlier this evening. 

_ You’re not a bad person.  _

No. He was just the person who just broke in to Natsumi’s systems, copied all her data, stole Arusuran’s public appearance schedule from Kisa, read through all her fanmail, and sometimes, just sometimes, listened in on her conversations with Djibouti. 

Not a bad person at all. 

He announced himself at the door and was let in. Kasei Joshu, Chief of the PSB, sat at her desk. Waiting for him. Already studying the report he had sent in to her not ten minutes ago. 

“What have you got for us today Shikkokan?”

She never used his name. He didn’t care. But he noticed it every time. 

“Nothing much, more of the same.”

“Tell me.”

“There are still twenty agents spread across Japan. All registered foreign nationals. Their Psycho Passes are checked every week and remain acceptable. You already have their names and locations. And details on their assignments. They are still doing nothing more dangerous than visiting old age homes, medical facilities and the odd underground bar.”

“And you’re sure that you are not being presented with false information?”

“Yes. In the past month, Arusuran Hime Sama has become increasingly hands-off with the Survey Team. She has entrusted their handling almost exclusively to me. 

“How interesting, that such a responsibility be handed to a latent criminal.”

“As foreigners, they don’t understand the implications of me being a latent criminal. It’s a loophole I can exploit. Most of their issues are language-related. They have a hard time communicating with some of the locals. For instance, last week one of the Tokyo agents called me about sourcing nutmeg and allspice. He seemed to be missing food from his home. I directed him to dealers in synthetic flavours and food additives and offered to facilitate the exchange. I also wrote to the Ministry of Economy on the HRC’s behalf seeking the lifting of spice import sanctions for the Indian Subcontinent.” 

“And the Ministry of Economy didn’t question such a request from the HRC?”

“Hime Sama is an ardent supporter of the live foods movement. It is a well-known fact.”

“Continue.” 

“Another agent, stationed in Osaka was enquiring about the restarting of deep-sea fishing operations now that the ten-year ban is close to being lifted. I connected her to Daiichiro Industries that is most likely to succeed in obtaining that tender. Yet another wanted to know more about acceptable cultural practices under Sybil. So I directed them to a Professor of Anthropology at Shinshu University.” 

“What does any of this have to do with investigating human rights violations?”

“I don’t know. Arusuran Hime Sama tends to approach things in a roundabout fashion. But maybe it’s just the lack of personnel. As I reported the last time Hime Sama has been petitioning the Governor’s office and the NUN to let her bring in more field agents. Apparently the current crop was chosen because of their Psycho-Pass and doesn’t have adequate experience or skill… to do what is needed.”

“I can only presume that entails finding out the origins of that video. The thing prompted this whole farce, to begin with.” 

Ginoza didn’t respond. Kasei pulled up the video on the screen behind her. It started playing in slow-motion across the entire wall. Much bigger than Ginoza would have ever wanted to see it. Thankfully it was muted. She turned to watch it with him.

“What do you see in this video Shikkokan?”

“I see people killing each other.”

“Oh come now, use that criminal brain of yours. What else is its purpose?”

So Ginoza looked at the video. Taking in each brutality as it played out in front of him. Each crazed face. Each assault. Each spatter of blood. 

The women, young, old, being gang-raped… 

That one woman, dragged out of her house… Pregnant… before having the foetus ripped out of her

The children being beheaded, their corpses dragged around like prizes

The transmen and women being paraded naked before being set on fire

Alleyways full of people trying to flee the violence being flooded and then exposed to live wires

Row after row of people being shot in the head and pushed in to holes… 

“This was organized,” he said, “Pre-planned. Maybe even before the riots broke out… They used the riots as a cover.”

“And?”

“The victims are all illegals. Gaikukojin who entered Japan without Sybil’s approval. That’s why the HRC pushed for an intervention.”

“What else?”

“Whoever shot the video knew. They knew where to focus the camera. None of these frames look like they were random.”

“And?”

“And the PSB didn’t know a thing. We were too concerned with capturing Makishima, too focussed on achieving the target you set for us. To even suspect something like this was happening.”

“And what does that all add up to Shikkokan?”

“Someone made this video for a reason. They ensured it reached the HRC. But they waited a year to do so. They used someone in the Government to send incriminating data against the PSB. They wanted the HRC here. They wanted the HRC and PSB at odds. But at a time of their choosing. Which means the killing of refugees wasn’t their endgame.”

“What you are suggesting, Ginoza Shikkokan, would entail a criminal organization that has evaded Sybil System for years.” Kasei Joshu never took his name. Except she just did. “One that managed to manipulate even a mastermind such as Makishima Shougo.” Kasei’s eyes narrowed as she studied him. “Are you cold Shikkokan?” 

Ginoza was surprised by the question till he realized that he was shivering. That he had clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Exerting every ounce of muscular control he had, Ginoza forced his body to stillness. His fists tight. His knees locked. His spine straight. 

Kasei smiled like she knew some secret. 

“Recover the name of the HRC’s Government contact, the one who spoke to a foreign agency without Sybil System finding out.” 

“Understood.”

“Good, dismissed.”

Ginoza didn’t go back to his quarters after the meeting. He didn’t even go to the infirmary like any sensible person would. Because falling sick was basically unheard of nowadays and he would not accept doing it again this year. So Ginoza headed for the gym. It was only when he started punching the bag before him, did he feel his blood and body warm-up. 

Kasei had asked him for his thoughts. Forced him to articulate what he had suspected the very first time he had seen footage of the Jet Quarter Massacre. And ordered him to go back to being the good little mole that he was. Instead of doing anything about it. 

Had it been Kougami, he would have chewed and chewed on his theories, pulling at each thread till it cut his hands. He would have found what  _ he _ wanted to. And then Kougami would have taken action. Masaoka had claimed it was because of their pride as men. Ginoza still maintained it was because they were obsessed. 

Yet so many had been killed right under their noses. They had missed the forest for the trees. And now everyone was pretending like nothing had happened. 

Except for Arusuran. 

And now that he had committed to what he knew, he still had to continue being the obedient hound he had always been. 

So he punched and punched the sandbag in front of him till his knuckles bled. He ignored the looks and comments from the four Division 3 enforcers who had come out for an evening of working out and mocking the inspector-demoted-to-enforcer. He stopped when he was gasping for breath. Drank a lot of water and went back to his quarters. He took a long hot bath. Forgetting about how cold he had been just hours ago. He ate dinner. He played with Dime. He went to bed. 

He woke up sometime past midnight. Freezing. He checked the room's temperature. It was the same as it always was every night. He asked for it to be raised anyway. Then he put on a shirt and raised the heat on his bed for good measure. 

In the morning he woke up in a sweat. He didn’t understand why the room was sweltering till he checked the temperature and brought it back to normal. For the rest of the day, he struggled to function. Fighting off an inexplicable sense of sorrow. 

His mind kept dragging up Arusuran’s words. 

_ You’re not a bad person.  _

_ You’re not a bad person. _

_ You’re not a bad person. _

Yes, yes he was. He was a horrible person. Who refused to do what was right. 

And nothing any Hime Sama said would change that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohishashiburi desu ne? 
> 
> Ohaiyo Minna San!
> 
> So I recently got dumped by my beta... and it hurt more than I could admit at the time. It took me a while to recover and brought me two amazingly senior writers who are currently kicking my butt about plotholes and weak world-building. I had to go revise a few things and strengthen the way the story was progressing. But I am happier for it! I also took some time off writing this to build my website. You can check some of my original work on it: https://www.dragonsandrainbows.com/
> 
> I am on Tumblr as well: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dragonsrainbows 
> 
> Or Facebook if you prefer: https://www.facebook.com/dragonsandrainbows
> 
> Let me know what you thought of the chapter. Also, what are your thoughts on introducing new character perspectives (other than Arsalan and Ginoza)? Also, for anyone out there who had been following this or waiting for updates - I should be getting back to regular updates soon. This story is very important to me and I love Ginoza too much to not carry this through! So thank you for staying with this fic! 
> 
> Gambatte kudasai!


End file.
